


Getting Even With Hermione Granger

by Vixen7777



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Obsession, Prejudice, Racism, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen7777/pseuds/Vixen7777
Summary: Not only is Draco consumed with darkness, but his new obsession concerns a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor. Will he get his revenge on Hermione? Or will it lead to something more... complicated.Not your typically fluffy DramioneHP books compliant, except Snape's survives.





	1. Hating the Mudblood

**A/N: **This is an old fic that I started and editing. I thought I’d upload over here between work on my other fic. I hope you all like it.

[](https://imgur.com/epNxiGo)

**Hating the Mudblood**  
  
  
“You’re the smarmy git, Malfoy!”  
  
Of course things were as they always were. Draco Malfoy had turned into the potions corridor- flanked by Blaise and Goyle- only to run into Potty and Weasel. He noted the filthy Mudblood they always followed around wasn’t there and he was glad of it. It meant no one was there to interfere. To hold them back.   
  
It had taken seconds to get the red head shouting furiously at him, a little longer for Scar head, but that was how it always worked.   
  
“I’d shut your mouth if I were you Weaselbee. I’d rather be a smarmy git than as poor as you are. Your sister, has she always been such a slag? Or is it only since she’s been dating you Potter?”  
  
And of course that had been a sure fire way to set them off.   
  
As always, Draco would push them; comment after comment, because he would not be the one to punch out first, but he would push and wait until they made their attempt. He’d maybe even take a hit but only so that he could hit back. Only so he could punch Potter right between the eyes, so that his black-framed glasses cracked.   
  
“I thought it was you who was the slag Malfoy?”   
  
Draco closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat at the sound of her voice. He knew that his lip was curling up and his expression showed how disgusted he was by her, but why should he hide it?   
  
Draco turned his cold, grey eyes onto the filthy Mudblood behind him. He turned slowly, wanting to see her shaken by his deadly expression, but as always and as infuriatingly as normal, she didn’t react. She was looking to her _precious wonder boys._ He could see the stern look in her eyes that was already silently berating them for their actions. Their wands weren’t in their tightly clenched fists, which meant they had been about to hit out, to do exactly what he wanted them to… and she had ruined it.   
  
Hermione- fucking- Granger. Merlin how much he hated her. Draco could feel his blood pulsing through his body in his revulsion. She made him sick, the third member of the Golden Trio and the one he detested most. Granger; the bane of his bloody life since they had returned to Hogwarts to finish their schooling. The war had ended. Potter had won and Draco hated him for it. His father was in Azkaban, his mother confined to the house by the shame of it all. Worst of all, when he had been made Head Boy, she just had to piss on it by being made Head Girl.   
  
“What would you know Mudblood?” Draco began, because he was not about to back down. Even if it meant he could only press their buttons now that she was there, he was damn well going to do it. “It’s not like anyone’s ever wanted to get in your pants is it?” He sneered at her, disgusted by everything she was.   
  
Draco briefly noticed a mousey sixth-year girl, almost hiding herself behind the Mudblood. She distracted him momentarily only because she was looking at him, oddly.   
Draco heard her sigh. Not the mousey girl but _her._ The Mudblood had the audacity to sigh at him in exasperation before hurrying over to her lap dogs. He sneered at her, looking her over in loathing.   
  
Granger’s curly brown hair had worked itself into a frenzy in Transfiguration class and had fallen, in places, from the bun it was in. Her face was in its usual, stern expression but was otherwise showing that she was unfazed. She had her arms crossed; books held to her chest as her full satchel hung on her shoulder. She looked lopsided and thoroughly fucking ridiculous in his opinion. He didn’t understand how anyone could bear to be around her, not even Potty and Weasel.  
  
Granger’s Head Girl robes hung around her, almost too big. He had taken his off the moment he could. They had one lesson left and it was with Snape. He wasn’t about to be reprimanded for not wearing his Head Boy robes in a room full of lit cauldrons. She might though.   
  
The stupidly baggy robes hid Granger’s body from view, but he had been unfortunate to see her without her uniform on- another reason why he hated her so badly. They shared living quarters and were forced to work together on certain projects. At first, he had tried to put all the work on her but that had resulted in her reporting it to her favourite teacher. Headmistress McGonagall. Merlin, he fucking hated Granger. Here he was, working hard to regain some dignity for the Malfoy name, and there she was almost losing him his position as Head Boy!  
  
Draco had seen Granger wearing shorts in the summer; an event he did not want to witness again. She had repeated it, however, every night. She would change into her shorts, crack open the windows in their joint Common Room and would lie on the floor in front of the empty fireplace, reading. He had been counting the days before Autumn, silently willing it to hurry along.   
  
There was nothing more sickening than Granger’s body. Not because she didn’t have a good-looking one. Oh no. That was what made it so much worse. She had a very slender body, with curves in all the right places. It was so wrong. It was disgusting to see such a body being put to waste. Not because anyone would ever want her, not at all, but because of what ran beneath it- what ran beneath her creamy, smooth skin. It made him sick because her blood ran beneath it. Pounding, rushing blood filled with filth. Mudded blood and dirty blood and she was so damned oblivious to just how very disgusting she really was. There were not enough words to describe his repulsion.   
  
Deep brown eyes glared back at him, seemingly unnerved by the look Draco was firing at her.   
  
Draco wanted her to be bothered. To be scared or just plain offended, but she wasn’t. She was typical fucking righteous Granger and she was staring at him as if he was a bug- a mere irritation that was barely a blip on her radar.   
  
“My pants are none of your business Malfoy.” Granger said, sounding maddeningly non-plussed, before she turned to the mousey girl, a small crowd around the two groups now. She was taking books from the girl who was still staring at him, large doe eyes, peering round Granger’s shoulder. Draco just looked down his nose at her, causing her to retreat further behind Granger’s back.   
  
“You don’t have to justify him with an answer Hermione.” Potty had begun but trailed off as everyone watched what Granger was doing. She was taking books from the girl, balancing them against her raised knee. “What are you doing?”  
  
A good question. She’s just being Granger, Potty. Typical, Mudblood, Granger…and isn’t she disgusting?   
  
“Emilie has been assigned to me for mentoring.” Granger began to explain. “The Heads of school and all the Prefects have been asked to undergo a tutoring scheme. We’re assigned younger _brothers or sisters_…” she said, making air quotes with her one free hand. “We have to help them with extra tuition and be there to advise them on personal issues if they need help. Isn’t that right Emilie?”   
  
The mousey girl, who was still half-hidden behind Granger’s pile of books, merely nodded- her eyes still on him.   
  
“That is the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard.” Draco snapped. That stupid Headmistress was giving extra work, to those who already had extra work, in order to run some idiot scheme. It was one of the most stupid things he’d ever heard.   
  
“Perhaps you should be asking yourself why it is that _you_ haven’t been assigned a student Malfoy.”

Granger’s reply grated him. How he wished she would have an accident and loose her vocal cords. The sounds of her obnoxious, arrogant voice had become such an annoyance to him. He heard it far too often now he was forced to share a common room with her.   
  
He pretended he didn’t give a shit and perhaps he really didn’t because why should he care if the idiot Hufflepuffs of the damned school were keeping up with their work?   
  
“Nobody wanted to be assigned to you.”  
  
He wanted to growl. Punch a wall or punch her or anything. Only he would never punch a girl- only ever in his mind but never in real life. He had _some_ standards. Why would he lower himself to punch a Mudblood like her anyway? He might catch something just from touching her.   
  
“Nobody asked you, Mudblood!” He snarled back at her. Pissed with her for existing. “And stop staring at me you ugly cretin!” He demanded of the Mousey girl, not even glancing back at her as she hid herself from view.   
  
“Leave her alone Malfoy!” Granger yelled at him. “Merlin! What is your problem?”   
  
Right now, it was absolutely, positively her.   
  
The need to hit out rose within him again but he kept calm, kept his Malfoy dignity. She wasn’t worth him lowering himself to Weasel’s standards. Speaking of which the red head was now almost purple in the face. Shaking in anger.   
  
Draco laughed then. He couldn’t help it. Anything to get the twat going.   
  
“My, oh my Weaselbee, you might want to keep her on a leash.”  
  
That was it. The red-haired weasel snapped. Draco saw it in his eyes; the need to rip him to shreds. Well, come at me Weasel, because I have my own reasons for hating you, far more legit than why you hate me.   
  
Draco licked his lips as he waited, motioning for Blaise and Goyle to stay back. They were almost reflective opposites. Goyle was his dick head follower, no brain and no questioning- just like Weasel. Blaise was smart. So smart in fact he had given Draco a run for his money with grades in sixth year. He was sure even Granger had needed to pull out all the stops to stay on top. And then there was him and Potter. The very reason for their existence, because what would Blaise and Goyle be without him?   
  
Draco braced himself for the pain. Revelling in it. Tensing the muscles in his right arm, clenching his fist and preparing himself, ready to hit Weasel back, and Merlin, was he going to hit back.   
  
The pain never came. Draco heard a scuffle and opened his eyes. He had only closed them for a second, ready, but by the time he had opened them, Granger stood before him.   
  
“What the fuck Granger?”  
  
Granger was standing right in front of him, back to him and arms outstretched. Her precious books lay scattered on the floor where she had dropped them. Silly, stupid, foolish girl. She had moved in front of him, put herself in the way of Weasel’s punch. It looked as though the Weasel had stopped himself at the last moment as he stood mere millimetres from her, his eyes wide.   
  
“What are you doing?” Weasel exclaimed incredulously. Draco couldn’t understand it either.   
  
“I am not having you expelled Ronald, all because you took rise to Malfoy’s bait.” She stated, matter-of-factly. The idiot looked torn, teeth grit together, looking from one of them to the other with a frown deep on his forehead. “Don’t.”  
  
Draco watched in amusement as she added her little extra warning.  
  
“My- oh- my, it looks like Weaselbee won’t go against her wishes. Looks like she wears the trousers in the relationship Weasley. Tell me, does she have the dick to go with them? Because we all know you don’t have any balls!”   
  
Draco’s sneer made Ron start for him again but once more the infuriating know-it-all moved to stop him. This time Scar-head joined in by grabbing the back of Weasley’s robes.   
  
“She’s right mate…” Potter began.   
  
_No, she__’__s not Potty! Let him go you dickhead!_  
  
“He only wants to piss you off so you hit him and get expelled.”  
  
Potty was explaining and Draco fumed silently. He couldn’t give a shit about expulsion. The thought had never even crossed his mind. He’d merely wanted to kick the holy shit out of the pair of them- and he would have done had the Mudblood not interfered. They had to hit out first. He needed an excuse to not get expelled himself, and self-defence would suit him just fine. Any expulsions that resulted from it were added perks in his opinion.  
  
Draco watched as Potty helped the bitch to pull Weasley back. They were forcing him further down the corridor away from him, but as they did so Draco’s lips curled up into a smile. Perfect.   
  
“What is going on?”  
  
Snape’s monotonous voice was like music to his ears, because any punishment they received right now would make him feel that little bit better.   
  
The dark-haired man looked down at the mess of books and then up at the cowering mousey girl. He opened his mouth to speak, bored but ultimately about to set a punishment.   
  
“Sorry sir.” Once again, Granger rushed to the rescue and Draco sneered. “They’re mine. I- I dropped them.” It hadn’t exactly been a lie but she still turned red and stuttered her words. What a stupid bitch.   
  
“Detention and twenty points from Gryffindor for messing up the corridor.”  
  
Draco let out a laugh then, along with the whoops, jeers and laughter from the other Slytherins that had now congregated to wait for class.   
  
“That’s not fair!”  
  
A red faced Weasley was storming back up the corridor, his wand in his hand.   
  
“It wasn’t her fault! It was that prick that started it!”   
  
Weasley pointed his wand at Draco, about to cast a spell, as he stood there, amused if slightly unnerved. He would never let it show though. Do your best Weasley, because I’m sure I’ve had worse. And sure enough Potty was looking worriedly from his best mate back to Draco. That’s right Potty. I survived the curse you cast on me. I can fucking take it and I’ll give hell back.   
  
“Expelliarmus!”  
  
The corridor fell silent as Snape’s voice echoed around the corridor and they watched as Weasley’s wand landed in his hand. Draco sneered again but silently wished his Godfather hadn’t taken the dick head’s wand. All he really wanted was a bloody excuse to beat the crap out of them- one way or another. He really had no preferences.   
  
“A month of detention Weasley, and extra homework. Report to the Headmistress’s office at once. You too Potter.” Snape snapped.

  
“But I didn’t…” Potty began to argue but Snape cut him off.

“Another ten points from Gryffindor.”

A dark smile crept onto Draco’s face as he watched Potter sigh in exasperation.

“To the headmistress’s _now_ Potter, unless you want to lose your house more points. I will know if you don’t.”  
  
The Slytherins laughed and jeered as Potty had to pull Weasley away, his arm around one shoulder, almost chocking him as his arm wrapped around his neck.   
  
“Oh, and a hundred points from Gryffindor for threatening another student.” Snape added, gesturing towards Draco.   
  
Draco had to give it to the man. He knew how to brighten up the day. Draco turned to his classmates as they laughed about what had just happened. He glanced at the mousey girl again, feeling a pair of eyes on him.   
  
“What?!” He snapped as the class began to enter the classroom after Snape.  
  
“Leave her alone Malfoy.”  
  
Granger’s warning voice again.   
  
“I’ll do what I damn well please Granger. You’re not with your lap dogs now. You can’t tell me what to do.”   
  
Draco watched Granger as she bent down, picking up books as she went. The little mousey thing followed suit but was still glancing back up at him, blushing. Granger sighed, loudly at his comment and it made him forget about Snape’s punishment. He was back at square one. Hating them and wanting to see them squirm.   
  
“She’s not going to be able to help you much, this one…” Draco began to explain to the Sixth year.

The mousey girl had to be sixteen/seventeen? They were all eighteen now, beyond a wizard’s coming of age and still they were stuck at school. Whose idea it had been to enforce they finished their last year at school he did not know. All he knew was that the Ministry had sent them back, announcing they would not qualify as fully educated witches and wizards without graduating from Hogwarts. He rather felt they’d had more experience than was needed after the events of the war.   
  
“You’re supposed to help with personal issues you say?” He pretended to pose the question to Granger, who was fervently ignoring him. “You get any boyfriend issues and she won’t be able to help you.” He wasn’t even looking at the girl he was addressing. He was watching for a reaction from Granger.   
  
“She can’t give you any sex education either.” Draco added and smirked as the mousey girl blushed deeply, cradling a few books she had picked up to Granger.

Draco turned, expecting Granger to have snapped, or to be blushing as fervently as the mouse-girl was. He was disappointed. The Mudblood wasn’t blushing and didn’t look like she was overly bothered by his insult. She looked concerned however, when she looked over at Emilie. Draco glanced back to see the girl was staring at him, dreamily.   
  
Oh, that was just too funny.   
  
“Emilie, can you come and help me over here?”   
  
Granger seemed to realise the same time he did and Draco turned to the mousey girl, taking advantage of the opportunity.   
  
“You don’t have to listen to her Emilie.” He had only really taken note of her name the last time Granger had spoken. “She dropped the books, not you. Don’t let her boss you about.”   
  
Draco had looked straight at her, his eyes boring into hers and he could see the admiration she had for him reflected in them. He stopped himself from laughing as he turned back to Granger. She was ignoring him again and he really wished she wouldn’t. Stupid bint.   
  
“You know, if you ever want any help, with _personal_ issues…” Draco emphasized the words suggestively and saw Granger’s eyes widen from the corner of his eye. His smirk widened.   
  
The last few people were filing into the class now.   
  
“I’m Head Boy, so you know, you can always come and talk to me. I’d be happy to help you out, with any…_Personal_ problems.”   
  
Draco was sure his eyebrows waggled slightly with the insinuation. He bit his tongue between his teeth as he turned cockily back to Granger. She was standing, stock-still, her eyes cold as she glared at him. He smirked back at her, waiting…  
  
“Malfoy, you are such an unimaginable prick!”   
  
Granger’s shout carried in the now empty corridor, her pitch getting higher at the end. The three of them stood there. Granger, staring daggers at him as he smirked back at her. The mousey girl just stood there, looking from one of them to the other.  
  
“Another detention Miss Granger, for your rudeness.”   
  
Snape’s voice carried from beyond the open door of the classroom. Draco watched as Granger closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, her frame rigid. She looked so frustrated that she might just snap, and then came Snape’s voice again.  
  
“As Head Girl you really are setting a poor example.”  
  
Words of gold. If there was ever a way to upset the Mudblood bitch, it was telling her she was failing at something. Draco’s appreciation of his Godfather increased tenfold. He might be a moody, smarmy bastard, but he knew how to make Draco’s day.   
  
“Mr Malfoy, when you have finished assisting the young lady…” Snape called, referring to the mouse-girl. “Please join the rest of us.”  
  
Draco held back laughter as the Mudblood grit her teeth. Served her right. It served her right for being so disgustingly and positively gross. It was a curse on wizard kind to have her blood running through her veins. She would have been better to throw it all in and get herself killed in the midst of the war. Then she wouldn’t be there, pissing him off. Constantly.  
  
“Miss Granger, will you be joining us at all today? Another ten points from Gryffindor for holding up the class.”  
  
They could hear the mix of groans and outrage from the collective Gryffindor student’s inside the classroom. Draco wondered with glee for a minute if she might cry, but when she opened her eyes she looked determined.   
  
She was always disappointing him.   
  
“Yes Professor, sorry Professor.”   
  
Granger called back to Snape and Draco really did want to laugh as he headed towards the classroom then. He turned back, purposefully.   
  
“Bye Emilie. Hope to see you around.” He added in his dashing smile to the mix, glancing at Granger the whole time. “I meant what I said. Feel free to come and talk to me. Anytime.”   
  
Draco winked at her devilishly before turning to face the class. Almost everyone was looking to the front, listening intently to Snape as he gave out the potion warning for that day. Everyone listened attentively to what he had to say because no one wanted to be the idiot that blew up the potion. The Longbottom of the class as it were.   
  
However, Blaise, Goyle and Theodore Nott- who had obviously joined the crowd at some point- were staring back at him with utter horror on their face after hearing him offer help to the girl. Only Blaise seemed to realise there was a reason behind such behaviour.   
  
Draco turned as Granger walked in, holding her mountain of books. He held out his arm, stretching it before him, gesturing for her to go first. He thought maybe she would glare at him; she was positively buzzing with anger. But she ignored him as she passed, faced forward and walked ahead, knowing he would take his seat next to his friends at the back. Meanwhile she would have to walk to the front of the class, in front of them where Snape would only target her further. Ah, he really did enjoy Potions class.   
  
Draco turned back to see that Mouse-girl was peering round the doorframe and Draco smiled at her; his charming- women winning- smile. Sure enough, she blushed and looked away bashfully. The class erupted into noise as they were instructed to get their equipment out and ingredients from the shelf. He looked around and saw Granger’s eyes on mouse-girl at the door. He watched as they hurriedly flickered back to his and Draco smiled darkly. Oh don’t worry Granger. You’re going to get what’s coming to you… one way or another.   
  
Draco’s smile widened in amusement, his eyes still staring darkly at her. Then he slowly turned his head towards the girl in the doorway. Knowing that the dirty Mudblood was watching, he gave Mouse-girl a little wave, before blowing her a kiss. He had to hold back his laughter with horrendous difficulty as the girl flushed a brilliant red, gasped and jumped away from the door. He was saved by Snape again as he flicked his wand and the door slammed shut.   
  
This was so perfect Almost _too_ perfect. So perfect in fact that he laughed out loud, receiving strange glances from Blaise and Goyle. He looked back at Granger, who had not moved. She was staring; her expression unreadable but obvious anger pulsed through her dirty blood. He laughed openly in front of her, smirking at her when he could manage to.   
  
Oh, it was brilliant. A plan had already formed in his head and he had the _perfect_ way to get back at her. The perfect way to punish her for stopping Weasley and for stopping Potter and just for being her bloody self!   
  
Smirking back at her, Draco composed as Goyle fetched his potions equipment for him. How the brute had managed to con his way back into Snape’s class, Draco had no idea. Nor did he care. Right now, the only thing he cared about was making the filthy Mudblood that was staring at him, realise how very disgusting she was. He’d make her hate herself. Make her hate herself as much as _he_ hated her.   
  
Draco almost laughed again as the planned finished forming in his head. She hadn’t moved. Her anger was coursing through her, he could see that, but she held her ground. She glared at him; blank except for the underlying furiousness.   
  
“Another Ten Points from Gryffindor.”   
  
And he did laugh again then, along with the rest of the Slytherins in the class. Snape was slamming his hand on her desk, looming into her.   
  
“Will you be joining us at all today Miss Granger?”   
  
The rebuking went on for a while but Draco only half listened. He was watching her; she’d turned away now to aim that glare at Snape. Draco would make her realise what she was. He’d make her hate herself for existing as much as he did. He’d see to it that he got revenge on his father’s behalf. One by one he’d take down the _Golden Trio._ One by one he’d make them break.   
  
… And he really was looking forward to tearing her into pieces. 


	2. Threatening the Mudblood

  
**Threatening the Mudblood**  
  
  
Draco had spent the entire evening, grinning darkly. He was incredibly eager to start acting out his plan, yet simultaneously conflicted by the thought of how Granger would react if he waited a while- dragged it out.  
  
Because he knew the little book worm would drive herself crazy. Granger was always full of thoughts on goodness and right and wrong and Draco was definitely one of those _wrong_ definitions to her. He may as well be the devil reincarnate. That was what made it so great. The thought that he, so wrong as he was, would harm her poor_ little sister._  
  
It would drive the Mudblood mental.  
  
Granger would be sat there, right now, fretting. Pondering whether to report him. She would have nothing to base her theory on of course. Draco had done nothing but aid a younger student; Snape would back that up. No. All he would have to do was feign innocence and she would be the one getting the punishment. Spreading slander would not be looked upon lightly and with her favourite professor as Headmistress… Well, Granger was not about to run off to her at any rate.  
  
No. All Draco would have to do is wait. Give her dark glances from across the hall at lunch, make snide comments and, above all, ensure that he had a little flirt with the Mouse-girl whenever Granger was there to witness it.  
  
Draco sighed contently, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back. He was a frigging genius.  
  
Although he was Head Boy, Draco had taken to sticking with the Slytherins in his old common room. No way was he about to spend his evening blinding himself with glances of Granger. Despite the knowledge that autumn had been and nearly gone, he still wasn’t risking those shorts. Those shorts made him want things he shouldn’t. Those shorts made him sick to the stomach. Those shorts made him hate himself. When really, he should only ever hate her.  
  
Having waited up till past midnight, most of the students were now in bed. Blaise had sauntered off with a Ravenclaw girl earlier in the evening and he really couldn’t give a toss where Goyle now was.  
  
Draco sighed, supposing that he’d better get back. The goody-goody would be in bed by now anyway so his plan to avoid her had remained successful. He smirked to himself as he languidly stood from the sofa. He winked at one of the only female students still awake, noticing she had been turning around every now and then to look at him. He couldn’t be certain whether he had bedded her before or not, but she smiled back, blushing all the same.  


Grabbing his robes from where they were draped across the back of the sofa, Draco headed to the portrait hole. Granger was going to see what happened when people messed with the Prince of Slytherin. Draco was their prince. He was mother-fucking-royalty to them. So how dare she interfere?  
  
It was the Golden Trio’s fault that his father was in prison. She should have repented, turned to him and apologised for all the grief they had caused him, but instead she only added to it. Merlin, how much he fucking hated her. Hated her for who she was and what she was and worst of all was that she had been idiotically dubbed the Gryffindor Princess. Princess his arse! Granger didn’t possess enough decorum to be classed as Game Keeper’s Assistant, let alone a pissing Princess!  
  
The only thing that she had going for her was her brains, and- if he had his way- he was going to mess with her head so badly that they would self-combust.  
  
Draco smiled devilishly as he approached their shared common room. The remarkably pretty woman in the portrait smiled broadly at him as he approached. It was clear she had a secret prejudice against Mudloods. Either that or she just particularly hated Granger. She had been continuously commenting on Granger’s appearance since day one of the new school year. Something Draco had taken great satisfaction from witnessing.  
  
The pretty witch in the portrait would make snide comments about Granger’s hair, always under the guise of genuine concern. She would comment on how big her robes were, how full her bag was and, more recently, the comments had become boy orientated. Questions as to why she never brought a guy up to the common room. The answer was obvious. She didn’t have one and no guy wanted her.  
  
The woman waved her painted fingers in a flirtatious gesture, as she swung open to let Draco into their quarters. He was smirking widely and was so happy with himself he almost didn’t notice the atrocity sitting on the sofa. Granger… In those fucking shorts.  
  
Nose crumpling as Draco took her in, she regarded him silently in return. He felt sick at the sight of her. That slender, teasing body and all of it was wasted because dirty blood ran beneath that skin- blood that made her everything that was wrong in the world.  
  
Draco glowered at her as she stared back before he decided to stick to his mission. Avoid Granger and her stupid shorts at all costs. Get up the stairs and into your room and away from the same air that she breathes with you.  
  
Bile rose in Draco’s throat as he stormed away, seeing the simmering flames of anger in Granger’s eyes. He paused as he came level with the sofa, her head having turned to follow his every step. He questioned for a moment whether he should stay and exert an angry tantrum from the Mudblood. He didn’t have time to decide because she spoke first, having decided that he absolutely _should_ stay.  
  
“What are you playing at Malfoy?”  
  
Granger’s words were covered in a layer of hatred so thick that he could almost taste it.  
  
“I’m going to bed Mudblood…” he spat the word with emphasis. “Why? what are you doing?”  
  
Not that he cared, and Granger knew that.  
  
“What are you doing with Emilie?”  
  
That’s right. Cut to the chase Granger. Don’t get into a conversation with me because you know I’ll fire you up. Piss you off so much you want to hex me, but you know that you can’t so it results in your tears. The same as every other time.  
  
Oh yes Granger. I know about the tears and no; I know you never show them to me. You keep them collected like fucking gems. But I know that you sob yourself stupid at night, every time we have one of these _tiffs._ So, I’m definitely going to drag this out. I’m definitely going to get you speaking, pissing you off and hopefully you’ll cry your fucking heart out. Maybe you’ll bloody drown yourself in those tears that you keep hidden from my eyes. Merlin knows the last time this happened there must have been enough of them!  
  
The last time they’d argued Draco had spent the night picking away at her, winding her up and pissing her off until she drew her wand, her hand shaking in the frustration of knowing she couldn’t use the damn thing. He had laughed in her face then, as Granger ran up the stairs. That night she had kept him awake for hours with her crying. So he’d started on her again, the moment she woke the next morning.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco mocked her in a falsely innocent voice. “You’re looking positively frightful tonight Granger. Anything on your mind?”  
  
Draco smirked again and watched as Granger balled her fists into the sofa beside her. He bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing, because she was transparent. He could see what she was thinking, could see the theories flashing across her mind. He sneered at her as she gritted her teeth together.  
  
“You know what I mean Malfoy. Stop being an utter arse and be serious for a moment.” she warned him, trying to remain composed. “You need to leave Emilie alone.”  
  
Draco stared at her for a moment, forcing a blank look upon his face.  
  
“Which one was Emilie?”  
  
Draco asked the question after a falsely contemplative pause. He had too bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling widely and laughing at the outraged look on Granger’s face. Classic Granger outrage- a brilliant form of entertainment.  
  
“You know precisely who she is Malfoy.”  
  
Granger yelled back, suddenly on her feet and Draco smirked at her. She was taking to the bait like a fish. She was storming towards him in seconds and he stood, leaning his weight on one side of his body, his robes still bunched in his left hand, and waited.  
  
Draco watched as Granger stopped before him, her eyes simmering and firing daggers at him. Even her hair seemed to respond to her anger by making itself ghastlier and frizzier than usual.  
  
“Are you sure you’re quite alright Granger? Only, you’re looking very flushed.” Right on queue she ground her teeth together, waiting for his smirk, which came at the next second. “Or is that just from being around me?”  
  
“Believe it or not Malfoy, not every witch thinks you’re God’s gift!”  
  
Granger almost shrieked at him and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips.  
  
“Oh really Granger? I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”  
  
Draco was looking down his nose at her, smirking when she interrupted.  
  
“You are vile! Vile and disgusting! And above all you’re a fucking coward!”  
  
The smirk fell from Draco’s lips immediately, because it absolutely was not ok for her to say things like that to someone like him.  
  
“You’re probably even worse than your father. You think it makes you a bad ass because you have a Dark Mark on your arm Malfoy? Well it doesn’t! We all got scars from that war. I bet even your precious, idiot mother has them!”  
  
It was absolutely, positively not ok for her to say things about them; his father, who’d been put away and his mother, who was now stuck at home.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ call my mother an idiot Mudblood!”  
  
The hiss that came from between Draco’s lips was dark and a warning, because at that moment he really would not hesitate to hurt her. Rip the frizzy hair from Granger’s head and that tongue from her mouth because she needed to shut up about things she knew nothing about. And she should have headed his warning. She was the brightest witch of their age after all, but instead she went on, making his body shake in fury.  
  
“Well she has to be an idiot if she wound up marrying _your_ father!”  
  
Granger was snapping back and he could see the anger in her eyes like he felt it mounting in his body.  
  
“Your parents are _scum_ Malfoy. Just like you. And I say it because I know for a fact that it’s true! You let the Death Eaters in and that was just for starters. You were there that time I was tortured Malfoy! And you didn’t lift a finger to stop it!”  
  
Granger shrieked at him and for a moment all he could do was stare back; didn’t trust his quivering body to move without smacking her across the face.  
  
“I bet you even enjoyed it, didn’t you?”  
  
Draco’s hand moved from nowhere and apparently he’d been right not to trust his body, because his hand grabbed a fistful of Granger’s frightful chestnut hair. His wand was at her throat, digging into it before she could turn hers to him. He loomed down into her, forcing her head back, her knees having to bend slightly to accommodate with the position. A small yelp betrayed her before she clamped her lips together, trying not to whimper in pain as Draco felt a few hairs pull away from her scalp. He was furious, his body shaking, and his wand pressed hard into her throat. His hand shook with the rest of him as he tried to calm himself, tried to stop himself from hexing the wench, even though every part of him was crying out to do so.  
  
_Use your words Draco. Use your wit and drive it into her so deep, she__’ll want to rip her own skin off just to get it out._

He told himself as her wide eyes stared up at his, terrified.  
  
“That’s right Mudblood.”  
  
Draco said slowly, not even sounding like himself. He watched Granger’s eyes fly wider and her lips part and he knew that those three words had driven in deeper how much trouble she was in. How much _danger_ she was in.  
  
“I enjoyed it.”

Draco’s nose twitched and his lip curled in disgust at her, too close for comfort but knowing it was necessary. If he tried to move, if he tried to do anything before he had absolute knowledge that she was as sorry as she possibly could be for anything she may think, and anything she had just said about him and his family, then he felt that something worse than bad would happen. Maybe he’d even kill her? And wouldn’t that serve her right?  
  
“Can’t say as I enjoyed it that much when they cut you… But I’m pretty sure everyone vomits at the sight of your blood.”  
  
Draco had not really been sick at the sight of it all. He had vomited later, once the Trio had escaped the manor. When Draco had been left to stare at the puddle of blood in that cold room and listen to the memory of her screams… screams that would haunt him.  
  
“Malfoy…”  
  
Granger barely breathed the word, her eyes watering in pain at how hard he was pulling her hair. But he cut her off. Needed to make her sorry she’d ever fucking crossed his path.  
  
“Why should I have stopped them Granger? When you know that I revelled in it.”  
  
A lie. A downright, ungodly lie, but she didn’t need to know it.  
  
“I enjoyed watching them hurt you, cut you. I enjoyed hearing you scream and watching you cry.”  
  
And his lies might just consume him, because he felt sick again and this time not all because of her.  
  
“So why should I have stopped them Granger? Why shouldn’t I carry it on now for that matter?”  
  
That delicious leap of fear as Granger’s body jolted, trying to bolt from Draco’s grip, only to result in more hair ripping from her head, and more pain. He could taste her fear in the air around them and for a moment he saw her memories of the event play out in her eyes, just like they were in his head.  
  
He’d never really do it. He wasn’t as sick and insane-crazy as his aunt had been and even then, he doubted he would ever really do it. But in that moment, in that delicious, fear-filled moment, she didn’t need to know that. In fact, she never needed to know that. Let her fear him all the time because right now, in that moment, he really was revelling in it.  
  
“Perhaps I should do it? Carry it on…”   
  
Because the words were definitely too much to add along with the memories.  
  
“Then send you on your merry little way to Potty and Weasel.”  
  
Draco suggested, a slight smirk back on his lips now. Less shaking now that he was winning.  
  
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  
  
What?  
  
Because Granger wasn’t supposed to be speaking. She was supposed to be fearful, frightened, scared. But not speaking. Not answering back.  
  
“What?”  
  
This time Draco spat the word because she didn’t seem to be enlightening him without him doing so.  
  
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? If Harry and Ron came looking for you…”

Granger was staring straight up at him. Still scared, oh yes, there was definitely still that delicious morsel of fear, but she was staring and snapping back at him just the same.  
  
Draco stopped his eyes from roaming. Wasn’t she supposed to be smart?  
  
“In your own, sick little way, you’d love to have Harry and Ron breaking down the door to get to you… To hurt you.”  
  
Yes.

Draco really would love them too, because one hit from them and he could claim self-defence. He could claim self-defence after tearing them limb from bloody limb.  
  
“Because you’re that desperate aren’t you Malfoy? In your own twisted way, you need them to hit you. You need them to beat you down. Because really, what you need is to feel punished. To receive a punishment after all the fucked up things you’ve done.”  
  
What?  
  
Because Draco’s eyes had flown wide and it seemed to be the only word he was able to think around this girl.  
  
“And I’m right aren’t I? Because who _wouldn__’__t_ want punishment after the fuck ups _you__’__ve_ made Malfoy? All the fucked-up things you’ve done. But you’re not using them to get it. And you’re damn well, not using me!”  
  
Granger tried to struggle from his grasp, went to reach her wand even though he didn’t know how he knew. He knocked it from her with a swipe of his own wand, millimetres from her throat still. Yet the fear was gone.  
  
Granger was looking up at him with those brown, calculating eyes. They watched him as Draco stared back at her, trying to work out his next move, because he certainly wasn’t winning anymore. He needed that taste back. Needed to feel her fear in the air but all he could taste was the bile rising at the back of his throat.  
  
There was an unnatural silence for several seconds, before the taste in Draco’s mouth made him open it, bringing up words that he had no idea he would speak. He spoke coldly, slowly, emphasis on every syllable.  
  
“That Emilie girl…”  
  
Just three words and it was all it took to make him victorious again.  
  
“If I didn’t know who she was before…”  
  
Which, of course, he did.  
  
“I am damn well going to find out now!”  
  
With a final growl Draco finished all he had to say to her. All he hopefully _ever_ had to say to her. He suddenly let go of her hair and dropped her. He watched as she fell heavily to the floor, hard. He couldn’t even manage a smirk- more of a grimace as his eyes swept over her, disgusted.  
  
Draco turned away, leaving Granger sprawled on the floor where he’d dropped her. She would have to watch herself from now on because now he was going to put every waking moment into destroying her. He climbed the stairs to his room, silently, not even glancing back to make a snide comment about those god-awful shorts.


	3. Annoying the Mudblood

A/N: I’m currently posting this between updates of my other fic. If you like this please check it out 😊

  
  
**Annoying the Mudblood**  
  
  
It had taken a few days for Draco to shake what had happened from his system. By the next morning he was almost regretting his actions towards Granger. It wasn’t until he saw her across the Great Hall at breakfast, that he changed his mind. The little bitch had had it coming. He merely wished he hadn’t had to touch her in order to scare the crap out of her. Because she had been scared, most definitely, but it had not lasted long enough in his opinion.  
  
Now almost a week had passed and he was sat, in the Slytherin common room, drinking Fire Whiskey. The noise from the other students washed over him as he wallowed in his hatred. Merlin, he hated that bitch.  
  
Draco had made sure to approach the Mouse-girl whenever Granger was around. He wanted to drive her as insane as possible. With Christmas coming closer, all the girls were becoming ridiculously excited- annoyingly so. With Christmas would come the Yule Graduation Ball for the seventh years. Merlin, what a waste of fucking time and energy.  
  
All the Yule Ball meant was that Draco was supposed to buy Pansy a flower _thing _and make sure he turned up in dress robes. He’d still get a shag. In fact, it was pretty much guaranteed.  
  
However, with the Yule Ball had come the potential to wind Granger up even further. Even though she was apparently undeterred by the prospect of him approaching the Mouse-girl, he was sure Mouse-girl wasn’t. All week he’d made sure to bump into her in the hallway, talking to her whenever Granger was around.  
  
Draco could see the fire in Granger’s eyes every time he neared her. Every time he spoke to the Mouse-girl, Granger’s eyes would blaze with fury. It was so entertaining.  
  
Draco hadn’t asked Mouse-girl to the Ball. He had no intention of doing so. But as long as she thought she had a chance it all made for a fun game. The previous night he’d bumped into the both of them in the Common Room. A smirk had lingered too long on his lips and Granger had spotted it before Mouse-girl had turned to him.  
  
Granger stood behind him, glowering at him as Mouse-girl blushed. She looked up at him with shy eyes, pink faced. She was quite cute really, but Malfoy’s deserved more than cute. Anything short of stunning wasn’t enough for him. Mouse-girl smiled at him before looking down and away again.  
  
“Hello…” Draco had begun but had forgotten her name.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Mouse-girl squeaked up at him before her eyes flew wide at her embarrassing, high-pitched reply. She looked away again as Draco looked up at Granger, looking straight at her as he spoke to the girl.  
  
“What are you doing up here? Need any help?” Draco offered, still smirking at Granger.  
  
“We’re done here Malfoy. We don’t need your help.”  
  
Draco merely smiled down at the girl as Granger spoke matter-of-factly to him.  
  
“You sure?” Draco cocked his head to one side and leant down slightly to peer at Mouse-girl, who was trying to hide behind her curtain of hair.  
  
“Do you need any help Emma…?” He began, but Granger cut him off.  
  
“Emilie, come on.”  
  
“Emilie?” Draco finished, covering up his mistake.  
  
Draco smiled down at her, his winning, charming smile. He swept his hand gently through the curtain of mousey-brown hair that was hiding her. He tucked it back, behind her ear as she turned a brighter shade of red.  
  
“N-No Th-Thank you.”

Mouse-girl squeaked again as she replied, and Draco let out a small chuckle but hid it behind his fake smile. He looked up at Granger again as he straightened, keeping his hand in the girl’s hair for a moment. He brushed his hand down her cheek, heard her audibly gasp and saw Granger glance at the girl.  
  
“Come on Emilie. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”  
  
Granger looked up at him like he was the devil himself as Draco stood behind Emilie, smirking darkly at Granger in response. He couldn’t help himself. It was all too funny.  
  
“Aww, you don’t have to go yet Emilie. Can I call you Em?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “You can stay here for a while. We can order some cake from a House-Elf, or a drink? Would you like a drink?”  
  
“We really need to get you back.”  
  
Granger was openly glowering at him as she spoke, putting her hands gently on Mouse-girl’s back. There was a certain urgency in her tone that made him want to snigger, but he bit his tongue slightly to prevent it. He grinned as Granger tried to walk Mouse-girl towards the portrait hole, but Draco stepped swiftly in front of them, looking down at her.  
  
“You don’t need to go Emilie. You don’t need to do what she tells you.”  
  
Gold. Pure gold. The look on Granger’s face made him want to laugh out loud.  
  
“You could stay here for a while… with me?”  
  
Draco tried to look coy but wasn’t sure if he’d pulled it off. He’d never had to act bashful and apprehensive. Apparently, it didn’t matter though, because the girl looked up at him with her wide, blue eyes, awe and disbelief in them. She opened and closed her mouth silently for a few moments.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Smiling broadly and cheekily at the both of them, Draco then turned to catch eyes with Granger as he took Mouse-girl by the hand, triumph written all over his face. He walked Mouse-girl over to the sofa in front of the fire. He sat down beside her with a smile, as he pretty much yanked her down into the seat beside him. He looked down at her legs, parted in her skirt as she landed. She seemed to realise and pulled them together tightly, yanking down her skirt.  
  
“Malfoy…”  
  
Granger began, still standing stiffly near the portrait hole, watching their interaction.  
  
“It’s alright Granger. You go on up to bed. I can walk Emilie back to her dorm later.”  
  
Draco winked at Granger then and Mouse-girl was too busy examining her shoes to notice. When his words finally sunk in, she looked slowly up at him. A look of awe. He flashed her a wolfish grin, ignoring Grangers murderous glare.  
  
“It’s fine. I’ll wait.”  
  
Granger told them stiffly, before marching over, to sit in the armchair. Draco sneered at her, before turning his attention to the Mouse-girl.  
  
“So Emilie, how is school going?”  
  
Draco began to question her and mostly she just stuttered and murmured back, but the look in her eyes told him that this was the best night of her life. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, Sex God was talking to her. In fact, he was giving her more attention than he did most girls. All because of Granger.  
  
But it was definitely worth it.  
  
Granger was scowling at him from the armchair the whole time. She didn’t even hide her annoyance at both him and the girl. She sat, her chin in her hand, her elbow on the arm of the sofa. He had to bite his tongue every time he glanced over. It was all too deliciously funny.  
  
“Well no. I did have a boyfriend… but we broke up.”  
  
Draco was asking the usual mundane questions he asked all the girls and she had finally begun to murmur back without stuttering.  
  
“Why? I mean… you’re so pretty.”  
  
Draco brushed her hair back again and, heard more than saw, Granger shift in her chair. He kept his eyes on Mouse-girl, smiling down at her as she blushed a brilliant red. He traced his fingers round the side of her face, down to her chin where he cupped it.  
  
“Any man who broke up with you would be out of his mind.”  
  
Mouse-girl opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish and Draco smirked to himself. It was the usual reaction he got from girls. Predictable, easily manipulated, fickle women. All he needed to do was smile, give them a few flattering compliments- and they were putty in his hands.  
  
“Come on Em. Time to…”  
  
Granger tried to interrupt as she rose to her feet, making Draco frown, still not looking at her but trying not to roll his eyes in her direction.  
  
“It’s ok. I’m Head Boy. I can walk you back after curfew. No one will say anything.”  
  
Draco gazed into the Mouse-girl’s blue eyes, pretending to be rapt with her attention. He tried to keep the curl of his lips from rising when he heard Granger flop back down into her chair. She let out a frustrated huff as she slumped back. He turned in time to see her crossing her toned, slender legs. Merlin, he hated her for having those legs.  
  
Draco turned back to Mouse-girl, trying to keep the inappropriate thoughts from his head. Granger was a filthy, disgusting Mudblood. He shouldn’t even consider the things he was beginning to think about. All because of those legs, and if he had to admit it, those thoughts had started back when she had first worn those shorts. All because of those damn shorts.  
  
“…but I really do like Quidditch…”  
  
Mouse-girl was still talking, and Draco was obviously replying, he just had no idea what he’d said. He wasn’t paying attention. Merlin, this girl was boring. But it was worth it. It would be worth it just to get at Granger. Just to get her back. Particularly for the things she said the other night… as well as for existing.  
  
“…and then he said…”  
  
Draco wanted to groan like Granger was. This was probably a bad idea. Definitely a waste of his precious time. But it would be worth it… It would be worth it…  
  
“…So I said that she said…”  
  
For fuck’s sake.  
  
An hour and a half later, the Mouse-girl had Draco in a trance like state. He did the smile, the absent-minded brush of a hand through her hair every now and then, watching her blush as he moved his arm behind her, across the back of the sofa. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he pretended to be attentive. To be listening to her every word.  
  
But instead Draco kept thinking about Granger. He was annoyed that he kept wanting to glance at her. At her legs.  
  
Draco tried to face the girl but couldn’t help himself. Every now and then he’d glance back at her. At first, she would meet his gaze, firm and angry. As the night wore on however, he turned to find her nose in a book. She was still watching, still listening out for anything inappropriate. He heard her bristle every time his hand rested on the girl’s knee. Or his hand stroked her hair.  
  
Two hours since Draco had entered the Common Room and found them there had been too much. He was bored to tears. He rubbed his face as the girl yawned. She was cute, but she was plain and _so_ damn boring.  
  
“I guess… I’d better get back.”  
  
Merlin was this girl just red faced all the time? The Mouse-girl’s blushing was annoying him now. He jumped up at the prospect at her leaving, helping her to her feet a little too roughly.  
  
“I’ll walk you back to your dorm…”

Draco turned then, a dark smile in place when Mouse-girl couldn’t see. He turned to sneer and smirk and mock at Granger, but his face fell, lips parted when he turned to find that she had fallen asleep.  
  
Granger’s head was resting both on her hand and against the back corner of the soft armchair. One of her legs was curled beneath her, the other dangling, and her foot was to the side on the floor. Her other hand was in her lap, barely still holding onto the large book in her hand.  
  
Long, black eyelashes framed Granger’s closed eyes. Her skin looked slightly flushed from the fire, a prettier blush than he’d seen from Mouse-girl. Her lips were parted, ever so slightly, her breathing shallow.  
  
“Oh. She’s asleep.”  
  
Talk about stating the obvious.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
And Draco hated the fact that he lowered the volume of his voice. Why should he give a shit about waking the damn Mudblood? Let her wake for all he cared. But he walked silently to the portrait hole all the same, holding Mouse-girl’s hand.  
  
Mouse-girl talked all the way back to her common room, and Draco let her. His thoughts remained on Granger, remained on cursing himself. He couldn’t help it. His mouth had run dry at seeing her there. She really did look good when she was asleep, when she wasn’t talking back. Because no other woman spoke back or argued with him. It was just her, and he was still so angry, still so mad at her audacity the other night.  
  
Mouse-girl kept nattering, but he gave the minimal responses he could. He wasn’t around Granger now, so he didn’t really give a shit what this girl thought at his blunt replies. She didn’t seem to notice however, as Draco walked her to her dorm, as though an automaton.  
  
Draco couldn’t help but lick his lips when he saw the image of Granger’s legs flash inside his head. When he saw her flushed face, he couldn’t help but wonder how she would look, flush-faced beneath him.  
  
What?  
  
What in the_ hell_ was he thinking?  
  
Draco felt the sickness rising within him, realising he had stopped stock-still.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
But Draco barely heard Mouse-girl’s murmur. He could barely breathe. He felt so sick, so suddenly, and at himself.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Draco said, covering himself as he grabbed Mouse-girl’s arm and hurried her on again. He picked up the pace as she hastened to keep up with him. He didn’t hold her hard, his grip was gentle but his pace quickened as the urge to empty the contents of his stomach and everything else, including his head with all those filthy thoughts inside, took over him.  
  
Quite suddenly Draco wanted to hit his head against the wall. Remind himself of all of his father’s lessons. How Mudbloods were disgusting. They were filth. They were whores. And he hated Granger, because she was so obviously none of the above.  
  
And he hated her for making him think this way.  
  
  
Draco hurried Mouse-girl back to her dorm, bidding her goodnight quickly as she blushed, looking up at him in admiration.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The Mouse-girl’s small voice reminded Draco why he was hanging about her in the first place. It would all be worth it. Get Granger back. Teach her a lesson for being so disgusting. For having such poison running beneath her skin.  
  
And perhaps that’s what this was? Being in such a close proximity with her- she was poisoning him.  
  
“I hope we can do this again soon.”  
  
Draco tried to smile his woman-winning grin as he spoke, but he felt sick. At himself and at Granger.  
  
Merlin, how he hated her!  
  
“I’d like that.”  
  
The annoying blush again. Reminding him of Granger.  
  
“Well, goodnight Emilie.”  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
Mouse-girl gave Draco a small smile before she climbed into the portrait hole. The moment she was gone, and the portrait was closed, he turned, leaning on the wall. He leant his head against the cold, stone wall.

Draco breathed in the cold, almost winter air around him. Breathing it in like an addict did a drug, and all because it wasn’t infected by her. He felt like her poison was thrumming through his head. Causing him to think these disgusting things, and they were only disgusting because it was her!  
  
He dragged the air into his lungs, reminding himself of his father’s rebukes. Reminded himself of what Granger had said about his father.  
  
Granger was a bitch. A filthy Mudblood bitch.  
  
And she was doing this to him!  
  
Draco stormed back to the common room, in a rage about Granger and everything she was. He was determined to show her, to tell her how much he hated her very fucking being.  
  
Draco crashed into the common room, letting the portrait close behind him noisily. He marched over, head down as he moved around the coffee table. He stood in front of the armchair, took a deep breath and looked up at her with a scowl on his face.  
  
Only no noise came out.  
  
Draco froze.  
  
Just stared at her. He couldn’t help himself.  
  
Granger looked so frustratingly beautiful sitting there, asleep. Safe from the rest of the world. From him.  
  
But that wasn’t what Draco wanted. He didn’t want her to feel safe and at peace from the rest of the world. He had to keep reminding himself. But when he looked up again, ready for another try, his eyes caught on the hem of her skirt. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes travelling along her legs.  
  
Where Granger been sleeping, obviously fidgeting slightly in her sleep, her skirt had hitched up. One leg was curled beneath her still, the other stretched out as before, but the skirt looked higher than it had when he’d left her. And annoyingly it wasn’t high enough. Only high up enough to make his mouth run drier. Make him lick his lips.  
  
Draco’s hungry eyes drank her in. From her long, dark lashes and riotous hair, to her long slender legs and hitched up skirt. At some point Granger had undone her Head Girl robes, revealing her white school shirt and loosened tie. Her figure was usually hidden by those robes, but here he could drink it in.  
  
Draco could stare, he could breathe in her poison. Revel in it. Taste it in the air. He could devour her with his eyes until he wanted to scratch them out. Because he knew that later on that night, he’d want to, but for that moment, for just that moment he could stare. Stand before her and breathe her in- all that she was.  
  
The goodness, the light. The pureness that was Granger, but she was anything but that, because he was the one with pureness running through his veins. She was the impure one. She was… she was…  
  
But it was hard to see it now. Hard to convince himself.  
  
Granger was the pure one. The honest one. The innocent one and the good one. She had pure, bright light thrumming in her veins, where Draco had sludge. Thick, black oil of darkness incarnate. Tainted. Tainted and corrupted and it reached out, destroyed everything he touched.  
  
It was getting harder and harder to convince himself that he was the Pureblood.  
  
Draco stepped closer. Breathed in the scent of Granger’s hair. Another step. His arms reached out. His hands rested on the arms of the sofa as he moved closer, leaning in. Seeing her perfection up close for once. She was mouth-watering.  
  
Draco’s leg moved in-between her legs; one still curled under her, but his leg moved in-between her knee and the other leg. He cocked his head to one side, his lips parted slightly as his eyes studied hers.  
  
Why was everything about her so, very, very wrong?  
  
Draco felt it happen before he could stop it. His knee knocked hers, her hand moved, and the large book slipped from her fingers. He heard it thud loudly to the floor, the sound seeming ten times louder than it should have been.  
  
Draco watched in alarm as Granger’s eyes snapped open, her eyes meeting his and widening in the panic of finding his eyes just a foot from hers. He trained his features, revealing nothing as he stared straight at her, concentrating on them so much that she had her wand in her hand before he could grab his. Suddenly her wand was at his throat. He could see the fear and shock thrumming through her body, as she fought to catch her breath. He had to confess he must have terrified her.  
  
But Draco stood his ground. Arms straight, leaning into her. Staring.  
  
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Just stared. Anger. Hatred. All thrumming beneath the surface. Along with their blood. The thing that separated them.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
Granger managed to bite out, still obviously thrown by waking to find him lingering over her.  
  
“You fell asleep… I thought I’d wake you.”  
  
Draco was sure that he could do better than that.  
  
“What were you doing?” Granger repeated, motioning at the way he was standing over her, trapping her in. All the time her wand pressed into his throat.  
  
“Nothing Granger.”  
  
The truth. But it was fun all the same, to see the frustration in her eyes, as she tried to figure out his game.  
  
“Get away from me Malfoy.” Granger threatened, her voice low.  
  
Draco sneered at her then. Figured he could add to her discomfort.  
  
“I just wanted you to know… that I saw Emilie off to bed.”  
  
At that, he smirked, pushed himself off from the arms of Granger’s chair and stepped backwards. He kept that smirk on his face as his grey eyes bore into hers, ignoring the sickness and the angry words at the back of his head. All telling him that he was disgusting. A disgrace to Purebloods everywhere, because she was a disgrace to the Wizarding world… and he had been imagining… fantasizing…  
  
“Malfoy…”  
  
Granger barely breathed his name, but Draco wouldn’t let her prevent him from walking away. He wouldn’t let her have the final word. He would win this.  
  
“Night Granger.”

A/N: I hope you like it, please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. I post about my updates on Tumblr if any of you would like to check it out. <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777> If anyone would be interested in Beta-reading this fic for me could you please message me? I'm also after some decent Dramione images that would fit this fic if anyone does photo-manips etc. To my other fic readers, I'll be updating Hunted once my Beta-reader catches up x


	4. Scaring the Mudblood

A/N: I hope you're all enjoying the fic. Feel free to let me know what you think. Comments and reviews are always encouraging. 

<https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777> I post when I'm updating on my tumblr if you'd like to follow me so that you know when I update my fics. 

  
  
  
  
**Scaring the Mudblood**  
  
  
Draco was sat, drinking fire whiskey and getting steadily drunker in the noisy Slytherin Common Room. The night was drawing on and more and more students were filtering through and up to their dorms. The ripples of the lake outside the large dungeon window danced in the faint light that the fire and lamps of the common room emitted. All he could do, was sit and sulk and hate Granger even more after the previous night.  
  
Draco had gone to his room after leaving Granger in the common room, eager for sleep, eager for nothingness. He wanted to forget the image of Granger sitting there, asleep in that armchair by the fire. Wanted to forget the way his eyes had traced her legs, wanting to see more when they reached the hem of her skirt. He remembered drinking her in, eyes travelling over the curves of her body which was usually covered by those baggy school robes. He remembered her wand at his throat, how she had pressed it against his Adam’s apple in a fraction of a second.

Draco had been grateful for the blackness that a good night’s sleep would bring.  
  
But it didn’t.  
  
Instead of nothing but darkness or Draco’s usual nightmares, of white masks and red eyes, his dreams were riddled with long, slender legs. Skin on skin; sweaty, hot and damp. Smooth, creamy skin against his porcelain, toned body. Brown, soft curls sprawled on the pillow beneath him. Granger’s eyes closed, long dark lashes on flushed, rosy skin.  
  
Draco was panting, trying to catch his breath as he moved, the rhythm building and the tension intensifying, above Granger on all fours. He could smell her on his skin, taste her on his tongue and he moved freely, quickening his pace, her body rocking slightly as she moved with him. He could hear her moaning beneath him, the sound, the smell, the feeling; it was intoxicating.  
  
Draco was so close. He could feel it as he gripped the green silk sheets between his fingers. Granger’s soft, smooth skin rubbed against his and he could feel the heat sizzling in the air around them. He could feel her. Taste her…  
  
Suddenly Draco’s world plummeted sideways. He opened his eyes in alarm as he fell and instead of finding the bed with red, silk sheets from his dream, he was half tangled in the green silk of his, falling out of it.  
  
Draco growled at the pain as his body impacted with the floor. Then he growled down at the cause of his evident frustration- he had an aching hard-on. Fucking hell. There had to be something wrong with him. He remembered seeing Granger beneath him, their legs entwined as he made her moan out in pleasure. Yes. There was definitely something wrong with him. That was the only answer.   
  
Draco wrapped his green, silk sheets around the lower half of his naked body. He must have fallen asleep and wound up completely covered by the blankets, because now he was up, he could feel the sweat on his head, his neck and his back. But it was making him cold now, the frigid early morning air around him showed too many signs of winter.  
  
Growling to himself, Draco sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. What was going on? How had it come to this? He was dreaming about a Mudblood for fuck’s sake. A Mudblood that had unruly curly hair, had once had two large front teeth. A Mudblood that was every bit as disgusting as he’d always told her she was… and yet…

Draco lay back down with a heavy sigh, staring at the bed hangings, but he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t ignore the raging hard on he now had. With a long, low growl, he unwrapped the blankets from around his waist, before storming into the bathroom. He slammed his bedroom door behind him, hoping it would wake Granger up. She deserved it. She did this to him after all.  
  
But as Draco showered, rubbing his hand furiously over his pulsing problem, he couldn’t lie to himself. Thoughts of Granger entered his head again. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, her legs, and it was over all too quickly. Something that never, _ever_ happened to Draco Malfoy.  
  
Turning the shower to cold, Draco leant all his weight on his arm. His hand pressed against the wall as he leant over and let the cold water run over his head and down his back.  
  
What the fuck was happening to him?

Draco could almost hear his parent’s voices in his head. The voice of his aunt as she insanely shrieked about the atrocities that were Mudbloods. He remembered watching them drag Granger into his family’s manor, only less than a year ago. He remembered her screams as Bellatrix had carved into her skin. Felt the sickness rise again at the crimson blood that filled his head.  
  
Draco had sat on the edge of his bed, towel around his waist, staring into nothingness. Trying to work out why, and what was wrong with him? And what to do, because thoughts of Granger were consuming him, tainting him inside and out.  


  
Now Draco sat in the Slytherin common room. It was almost empty now, as he sat on the edge of the seat, like he had the night before on his bed. His head fell into his hands as he looked at the bottle of whiskey on the table.  
  
Odgen’s Fire Whiskey… You are a Godsend.  
  
Whoever Odgen had been, he was a good wizard.  
  
Draco had already shared a whole bottle of Odgen’s with Blaise, but Blaise had taken what remained to his room with him, closely followed by a Slytherin girl with long, straight black hair. Pansy had been around for a while, undid Draco’s shirt to run her hands along his chest. He let a quiet growl rumble in his chest as he closed his eyes, but when he did, all he saw in the darkness of it was Granger’s legs and her stupid eyes- chocolate brown and blazing with fury.

Unable to shake that sudden taste of rising bile, Draco had dismissed Pansy, giving her only the explanation that he wanted to be left alone. He didn’t miss the flicker of something similar to confusion flickering in her hazel eyes as she walked away, sulking. Draco’s mother and father had always been very adamant that Pansy was a very suitable pureblood for Draco to marry, and so he had taken to his dalliance with the girl with diligence. He and Pansy had been dating, all the way into the previous year, the one where his eyes began to open, and he realised how truly dark and twisted he and everyone around him really was.

Draco may have dated the girl, but he had never been faithful. He never needed to be. They had an arrangement, a certain agreement between the two of them. If Pansy could marry into his family, partake of his wealth and his status and in return she would turn a blind eye to his sordid affairs and keep up the act of a happy couple. But they weren’t happy. There had never been any love there and Draco wasn’t even sure that he knew what love was. Loyalty through fear maybe, but never love.

But that had been hours ago now and Draco now had no idea, or care, as to where Pansy was now, or what she was doing… or _who_ she was doing.   
  
Draco was trying to find the bright side in all of this, because so far, all the plotting had done was drive Granger deeper into his head, into his mind. She was there all the time now. He could still smell her; her scent was stuck with him. The only plus side he could think of, from the previous day’s events, was that he had left her with the question of what he’d done when walking Mouse-girl back to her dorm. Hopefully the query and worry would consume her until her head exploded. Hopefully.  
  
Because Draco felt like his head was about to implode.  
  
Draco grabbed the new bottle of Fire Whiskey, having only had a few swigs from it since Blaise had gone to bed. The noise of it scraping on the table grated on him. His head was too full of noise. Too full of Granger.  
  
Draco wasn’t an idiot, even though he could tell he’d had too much to drink. He took all of the secret passageways he knew of to get back to his common room without being seen. A drunk Head Boy, with a bottle of Odgen’s, out in the middle of the night, wouldn’t look good. It had been a miracle that Hogwarts had let him back for his last year at all, let alone making him Head Boy. Now that he and his father had nothing, he was intent on keeping his position in the school. Intent on trying to fix some of the mess that his life had now descended into. No. He wasn’t about to be caught it was close to midnight anyway, so the older students would be returning just before their curfew.  
  
Upon reaching the common room, Draco stumbled up to the portrait as she flirted with him. He didn’t hear her words. Merely let her compliment him, then comment on how much he was swaying. Finally, the painting of an old, pureblooded Professor let him into his and Granger’s shared common room, a little disgruntled that he seemed to ignore her.  
  
Staggering into the room, Draco sneered instantly when his eyes landed on Granger, lying on the floor in front of the fire. He cocked his head to the side, taking in her slender legs… and those damn, stupid shorts.

Draco was too late to straighten himself. Granger turned to see him smirking at her, his eyes on her arse. He saw the horror and outrage in her eyes as she scrambled about, getting to her feet.  
  
“Malfoy, what…?” Granger began as she turned towards him. But he was sneering, sniggering. Draco watched as she glared at him, caught off guard by his low, chuckling. He knocked books from the arm of the sofa and chuckled to himself more.  
  
It was all her fault. It was all- her- fault.  
  
Draco’s parents were where they were because of her. Because of Wonder Boy. Because of dickhead Weasel. His father was in jail, when he should be around to clear his head of all those thoughts of her that filled it.  
  
And even now, Draco should have been more aware of where his eyes were resting.  
  
They stared at Granger’s chest this time; white vest pyjama top stretched across a sizable pair of breasts. Not as big as Pansy’s but big enough. A nice size. Her arms were crossed over her chest, making her cleavage more defined. Draco couldn’t help but ogle at it. The sober side of his brain scolding him for it.  
  
“Malfoy, we need to talk.”  
  
And if Granger had noticed what Draco was doing, where he was looking, she was very defiantly ignoring it. He supposed she wanted to talk about the previous night. To question him on what was said, what was done… _who_ was done, for that matter.  
  
“Malfoy…” Granger was frowning at him again as he swayed slightly. “Are you drunk?” Her voice sounded so incredulous, so grating. So typically, Granger.  
  
“_Are you drunk?”_  
  
Draco mocked her in a high-pitched voice. He knew it was immature, but he could never pass up an opportunity to piss her off.  
  
“Live a little Granger. Here, have some.”  
  
Draco offered Granger the bottle, but she merely eyed it cautiously.  
  
“You shouldn’t be drinking…”

Draco let out a small snort of amusement, as he flopped down onto the sofa, leaning back into the soft cushions. He moved the bottle from her direction, placing it and his wand on the arm of the sofa. Granger was obviously not going to partake in a drink so why should he waste it?  
  
Granger stepped in front of him, having taken two steps back as he moved into her personal space, uncaring.  
  
“It’s poison. All you’re doing is poisoning your body…”  
  
Draco let out a loud laugh at that. She should know, because Granger was poisoning him with her very presence, from the inside out.  
  
“Not to mention it’s forbidden.”  
  
Granger’s stern face was still scowling back at him but Draco was still finding it all very amusing.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a proper drink before Granger?”  
  
Rising to his feet again in a fast, fluid motion, Draco grabbed the bottle of whiskey, aware when Granger took a step back.  
  
“No. I haven’t.”  
  
And Granger sounded so proud of that fact that he let out another bark of laughter.  
  
“Wow! You take frigid to a whole new level.”  
  
Draco began to stalk towards her- quick, determined steps. He was too quick for her. He saw her go for her wand as she side-stepped, putting an armchair between them, as she neared the large, mahogany table they used to study at.  
  
Draco was too fast. He saw that realisation flash in Granger’s eyes.  
  
“Malfoy.”  
  
And Draco supposed it was meant to be a warning. But it didn’t sound much like that to him... Not even if he’d cared enough to listen to it.  
  
Granger stood, her hands on the back of the chair she’d moved to put between them. Her eyes darted to her wand on the floor, where she’d been when Draco entered. Neither of them had their wands on them.  
  
Damn.  
  
Draco swatted the wooden chair away with one fling from his arm, not taking his eyes from Granger. And he supposed he must look predatory but then, that was the intention.  
  
“Mal…”  
  
Granger’s voice was high-pitched and alarmed when she started to speak, but he lunged forward, placing a finger to her lips.  
  
Her lips… Merlin, they looked so ripe… so desperate for a kiss. A hungry, devouring kiss.  
  
And there came the sickness, as if on cue. Merlin, he hated her… For all she was, and all that she wasn’t and because that perfect, slender body was wasted on her.  
  
Granger’s eyes were wide for a second as Draco’s finger pressed against her lips to silence her. He felt her still, her whole body frozen in anticipation, over what he would do and where she should run.  
  
Her eyes stared back at his as he sneered.  
  
“Go on Granger… You know you want to.” Draco offered her the bottle of fire whiskey again, turning to her side slightly, breathing her in. The smell of her shampoo, the smell of her skin… The smell of her fear.  
  
Draco hated to admit it, but it was intoxicating.  
  
Granger eyed the bottle as Draco took his finger away from her lips, drinking her in with his eyes. She was wearing those damn shorts and a low cut, white vest top… fuck. He motioned the bottle towards her again, the liquid swilling against the glass as he tried to tempt her. He moved closer, fluid movements like a snake. He leant into her, breathing into her ear.  
  
“Go on Granger… Let go.”  
  
Because Draco was suddenly curious to see what a drunk Granger was like.  
  
“Be a rebel. Drop the Book-Worm persona. Prove to me that you’re not just a frigid cow. Show me why it is Potty and Weasel hang around you… Prove to me that you can be something more than just a stuck up bitch.”  
  
Silence as Granger’s stony cold eyes stared up at him. She didn’t move, just stared. Draco let out a huff of amusement, before leaning into her neck. He was aware of the double-entendre, in what he’d said. The look she was giving him was worth it. Worth the suggestion. Worth the sickness he felt.  
  
Draco reached out, his long fingers sweeping back the riotous curls at Granger’s neck. He leant in, breathing her in again.  
  
Intoxicated and sickened. And not just by her. What was he doing? He could vaguely hear his father’s voice in the back of his head.  
  
If they are nothing but whores, father, then all I have to do is make Granger one.  
  
Draco smirked to himself before he gave the curve of her neck a long, slow and deliberate lick. He _felt_ Granger’s breath hitch, more than heard it. He felt her whole body react to him as she tried to keep determinedly still.  
  
Draco could taste Granger’s fear upon on her skin. He reached her ear, smiling darkly.  
  
“Prove yourself to me Granger.”  
  
A whisper on her skin.  
  
Draco moved round to look back at those stony, angry eyes. And he wasn’t disappointed. Flames blazed there.  
  
Granger’s lips parted; Draco’s eyes suddenly mesmerized by them as he held the bottle to her.  
  
“I’m perfectly happy with my persona Malfoy. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone… least of all _you._”

  
What?  
  
Suddenly Draco stumbled slightly as Granger’s hands pushed abruptly at his chest. He scowled, maybe even growled, as he kept his ground but spilt whiskey down his front. He looked up at her again, fuming.  
  
Granger was moving again, making a bid for escape and heading towards the staircase. But Draco moved, faster than her, even with the alcohol thrumming through his inebriated body.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going Granger?” Draco growled through gritted teeth.  
  
Draco grabbed Granger’s upper arm tightly and she stumbled, calling out as he forced her to a halt, turning her around. He ignored her small cries of pain as she struggled and he grabbed the back of her head, his fingers curling through her hair. His index finger held the bottle of whiskey against her head, and he almost hoped that it would smash against it.  
  
Then again, that would be a waste of good whiskey.  
  
Grabbing Granger’s hair tightly, Draco saw the pain on her face. This time she didn’t try to hide it.  
  
“Look what you did Granger…” Draco scolded, motioning to his soaked shirt and chest. He was suddenly very aware that even with his shirt open, she had not once looked at him, drinking in his body the way he had hers.  
  
It just pissed him off even more.  
  
Granger’s eyes were tightly closed, pain in her expression but he didn’t give a fuck.  
  
“Look what you did…” Draco repeated, shaking Granger slightly but she kept her eyes closed tight. Then decided; “I think you should lick it off for me.” He forced her head forwards, trying to push her to his chest as she fought against him.  
  
“Ow!” Granger cried out. “Malfoy stop it! You’re drunk!”  
  
“No shit!”  
  
Draco’s sardonic reply wasn’t lost on her, but Granger was still fighting, struggling against him.  
  
“Go on Granger. I’m sure you’ve always wanted to see what a pureblood tastes like… here’s your one and only chance.”

Draco was smiling darkly down at Granger, he knew it. He couldn’t help it. She just looked so delicious fighting against him.  
  
And how fucked up was that?  
  
Draco let go of Granger’s head, laughing, keeping a hold of her upper arm so that she couldn’t run away from him.  
  
“Do you think you’re better than me? Is that it Granger?”  
  
Draco growled, his lip curling up into an angry sneer as he held Granger’s struggling body.  
  
“No!” Granger cried out but Draco didn’t think she’d heard the question. She was so busy trying to get out of his vice like grip on her arm. He knew it would bruise her, but he didn’t care. She was Granger. She was beneath him and if he wanted to toy with her then he would. Perhaps he’d even leave his mark on her, like she had on him.  
  
“Ow! Stop it!”  
  
And then Granger seemed to catch herself. She stopped crying out, struggling. She stilled, straightening as she set her flaming eyes on his.  
  
“Let me go.” Granger bit out angrily.  
  
There’s my girl.  
  
Draco laughed, at both himself and her, because how fucked up was this? Thoughts of her had been haunting him. No one else. Just her… And it sickened him.  
  
But the bile remained where it belonged.  
  
“You wasted my whiskey Granger. I can’t let you off that lightly.” Draco smirked at her.  
  
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t report you, for said whiskey.” Granger glowered at him and the smirk fell from his face.  
  
Steering her around, Draco saw the flash of alarm in Granger’s eyes, at the anger that had risen in his. He forced her violently into the table, ignored her cry of pain as she hit it. Shoved her back when she tried to push away. She’d probably have a massive bruise on her hip tomorrow… Good.  
  
Draco glared darkly at Granger for a moment, some of his fringe in his eyes. She kept up the glare, kept up the anger. Didn’t disappoint him.  
  
Very determinedly, Draco’s eyes not moving from Granger’s, he raised the bottle of whiskey. He raised it over her head, emptying the entire contents of the bottle over her. He saw her shoulders rise slightly, as the cold liquid covered her.  
  
Part of Draco hoped that Granger would drown on it. Another part said he wasn’t finished with her yet. She blinked as the liquid ran down her face, stinging her eyes, before she closed them.  
  
Draco just stared.  
  
Dark, angry. Hungry.  
  
Draco waited a moment. Waited until Granger could open her eyes, watery with the sting of the alcohol. He flung the bottle away from them. Watched her delightful flinch as the bottle hit the wall behind her and smashed.  
  
“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you Granger?”  
  
Draco had Granger pinned now. She stood against the edge of the table, between both of his arms as he leant in. He stood with his weight on his arms, his hands on the table either side of her.  
  
“Mostly because it’s _you_ that smells like a brewery.”  
  
Draco added, and Granger looked up at him, the anger still there, but she mostly looked very much the victim.  
  
Draco’s mouth watered and he looked down at Granger’s lips again. Maybe she noticed, because she moved to flee again, but was trapped. He forced her back. She stumbled when she hit the table and fell back against it. She lay on her side for a second, pain probably paralyzing her, before she hurried to move.  
  
Because this was absolutely supposed to be a punishment for her.  
  
But Draco was too quick. He pushed Granger back. Grabbed her wrists when her hands moved to shove at his chest, to claw at him. He laughed darkly as he held her there, her body still slightly twisted against the table. She was lying flat out on top of it now. Held down by him.  
  
Draco saw the beads of whiskey running slowly down Granger’s disorderly hair, trailing down and onto her chest.  
  
Merlin, how he wanted to lick that up.

Draco noted that her white top had gone see-through… and Granger wasn’t wearing a bra. No wonder she’d crossed her arms over her chest. Her chocolate coloured eyes were wide now. Still radiating fury, still fighting… Always.  
  
Draco smirked down at her. Bent over the table, over her. He held her hands either side of her head. The predicament of her situation seemed to sink in. He watched the fear seep into her eyes. Smelt it, tasted it, breathed it in from the air around him.  
  
Leaning close to her neck, Draco whispered against it.  
  
“Scared Granger?”

Draco smirked again, the scent of her was tantalizing, even mixed with the stench of whiskey.  
  
“You’re drunk.”  
  
Granger repeated, tried to speak strongly, but it faltered on the last word.  
  
“Get off of me.” Stronger.  
  
Draco had to admit, he was impressed, for once Granger didn’t disappoint. She looked back at him, fire blazing in her eyes, as she lay trapped beneath him.  
  
And it was so wrong but so right, and his skin was singing.  
  
Draco merely let out a noise of amusement before he decided he really, desperately needed a taste of her. He moved, looked Granger in the eyes, before he bent down. His tongue traced lightly against her skin, lapping up the bead of whiskey that was still trailing down her chest.  
  
The lower parts of their bodies met as Draco pressed himself against her, bending down to reach her chest. He heard Granger stifle a gasp, before she struggled fervently again. He let out a laugh as she struggled against his body.  
  
“Wriggling around like _that_ isn’t going to help you. In fact, it will only make things worse.”  
  
Draco saw the terror in her eyes as her strength and resolve started to fade away in front of him. Somewhere beneath the insanity of it all he was wondering what the fuck he was doing.  
  
“Malfoy… Please, I won’t say anything about the drink… Just let me go”

Granger’s voice wavered, she was trying to sound strong, but failing.  
  
“Well we’ve already established that.”  
  
Draco flashed Granger his charming smile, before his hooded eyes moved back to her chest.  
  
“Fuck me Granger, who knew you were hiding this body under your robes?”  
  
Letting go of her right wrist, Draco moved to stroke Granger’s skin. His touch feather-light, as he moved his fingers down over the mound of her breast, to stop at her nipple as it began to harden. Her hand came up of course. Tried to push and shove at him, but he barely budged. His body was toned, many years of Quidditch had seen to that. Her body strength did nothing to move him.  
  
“Stop it!” A shriek this time. But Draco smirked as Granger struggled and he pushed her back down into place.  
  
“Mudbloods are whores Granger. Let me show you your place in the world.”  
  
Draco’s head was spinning, but he was still breathing her in, delirious with the taste of her. Could still taste the panic on her skin…  
  
And it wasn’t enough.  
  
Granger’s eyes flew wide in response to his comment and her struggling frenzy began again, more violent this time. She tried to kick at him, but Draco’s legs were pressed against hers, holding her in place.  
  
“Oh, come now Granger… I bet you’re not this frigid with the Wonder Boys. I bet you even let them do you at the same time.”  
  
“No I don’t! Help!”  
  
Granger’s sudden scream surprised him. Humoured him, more than anything. Draco moved his free hand to press against her mouth in warning. He felt her soft lips beneath his hand, her hot, wet breath as he silenced her.  
  
“There’s no point in screaming now Granger, is there?” Draco mocked. “No one can hear you.”  
And this time, when he moved his hand, he placed it against her breast, groping at it. He felt a rush of heat to his groin but didn’t care to ignore it.  
  
“Stop it!” Granger scream again. “Get off of me!” And she really was putting up a fight.

Draco bent forward and sunk his teeth into the curve of Granger’s neck, her scream ripping through the air again. He was vaguely aware of how sick it was that he was smiling, as he licked at the sore spot he’d just bitten, the satisfying red mark on her skin. His hand moved to the bottom of her top and her hand grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him.  
  
“Malfoy stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!”  
  
Granger’s screams filled his spinning head, but Draco’s eyes drank her in. He pulled at her top, lifting it higher before he stilled.  
  
Draco swallowed down the sickness.  
  
Four, white scars marked Granger’s stomach and just under her chest.  
  
Draco was drunk. His grin probably fell, and she probably saw it, but he covered it up. Had to. That voice in his head was telling him to hide the shock, hide the repulsion. The repulsion he felt at the memories that flooded his head. Smirked and laughed at her, as she continued to fight to pull the top down again. He recognised that handy work.  
  
“Wow. Aunt Bella really went to work on you, didn’t she?”  
  
And even in his inebriated state, Draco knew that he was out of line. So beyond the line that he felt the burning of bile in his throat.   
  
_SMACK_  
  
Granger’s hand came up and hit him across the face… hard.  
  
It was abruptly followed by an almighty shove and Draco was so shocked by the slap, by his own words, that he stumbled. He barely saw the blur of Granger’s body as she fled to the other side of the room. He heard her scrambling and turned.  
  
Both of Granger’s hands held his wand. She was shaking but her eyes were blazing.  
  
“Stay where you are Malfoy.”  
  
And he did. He didn’t know why she was still standing there… or why he was still in one piece. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Granger had killed him, the look in her eyes told him she wanted to.   
  
“If you _ever_ try anything like that again, I _will_ kill you.” Granger warned him, and in that moment, he fully believed her.  
  
Granger yanked her wet top down fully, hiding the lowest scar from view. The fact that he hadn’t moved seemed to placate her slightly, because she took one hand off the wand to try and hide her chest, reaching her hand up to the bite mark on her neck.  
  
“Did you get a good look Malfoy? Have a good laugh at your aunt’s handy work?” Granger snapped at him. “You’re fucked up. You are severely sick in the head.”  
  
Draco was sure his eyebrows raised at her audacity. At how accurate her statement about him probably was.  
  
“You may be a pureblood, Malfoy, but there’s _nothing_ pure about you. If you _ever_ touch me again, I will hurt you as much as your aunt hurt me… Then we’ll see if you find it funny.”  
  
“You don’t threaten me Granger.” Draco warned her.  
  
_I do that to you, come to think of it. Nor do you smack me._  
  
“And no one slaps me and gets away with it.” He added with a growl.  
  
“Listen to yourself! I cannot stress enough how much you need help. You crossed lines tonight Malfoy. Lines that I didn’t think that even _you_ would cross.”  
  
“Shut up Granger. You loved every moment of it.”  
  
Because Draco had, and every other woman that lay beneath him did. So why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she just be the whore she was supposed to be? Maybe then she wouldn’t be so enticing to him. She would just be Granger, the whore- the same as every other Mudblood.  
  
“No! No, I didn’t Malfoy. Merlin, you are so fucked up.”  
  
Angry, exasperated and hurting, holding back tears.  
  
“You wanted me to touch you… you wanted me to make you scream.”  
  
Draco didn’t know why he was still insisting. Why it bothered him that she so apparently didn’t want that from him. But he was surprised by the flash of something in her eyes before Granger jerked his own wand at him again.  
  
“You don’t come near me anymore Malfoy.” Granger threatened darkly.  
  
“In case you hadn’t noticed Granger, we live together.” Draco exclaimed incredulously.  
  
“I don’t care. You stay away from me.”  
  
Draco was suddenly so angry. So angry at her for who and what she was and for making him want her.  
  
And she was right. He was royally fucked up. He needed to get back on track. Remember the plan.  
  
“Okay Granger.” Draco said, circling the long way around towards the door; Granger’s eyes and his wand following him.  
  
“Then I’ll just go and find Emilie.”  
  
Granger’s yell followed him through the portrait.  
  
“No, Malfoy! Don’t!”  
  
“Well, if I can’t have you, I’ll go and have her.”

Draco was vaguely aware of the sordid insanity of it all. That he was saying indirectly that he wanted her. That he’d said worse to her that evening. Words that would haunt him, tear at him, telling him that he should be punished for even thinking them.  
  
Granger’s cries seemed too muffled in his drunken state. Draco glanced back to see her rushing to the portrait in desperation, fear leaking from her eyes. The portrait closed on her, hiding her from view.  
  
“Do me a favour darling?” Flashing his charming smile, Draco spoke to the woman in the portrait.  
  
“Yes, dear?”  
  
“Don’t let her out? Pretend you’ve got a jammed hinge?”  
  
Draco heard an audible thump as, what he presumed was Granger, hit the other side of the portrait. He looked up at the attractive older woman, noticing she had taken a leaf out of his book and was drinking. She took a mouthful of wine from an elegant glass, before she winked at him.  
  
“I’d let you oil my hinges anytime sweetheart.”  
  
Another bang and Draco guessed that Granger was probably shouting as well before he heard more pounding on the other side of the portrait.  
  
“Thanks beautiful.” Draco said with a smile to the woman in the portrait. He turned, head back in the game. Thudding sounds behind him still.  
  
He headed in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room. Headed towards Emilie…  
  
Headed towards the downfall of Hermione Granger.


	5. Craving the Mudblood

A/N: I’m so sorry for such a delay guys. Had a busy couple of weeks. But here’s the update for you all my lovelies. Please let me know what you think

Tumblr- <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777>  
Email- Gryffindorgirl2010@hotmail.co.uk  
  
  
**Craving the Mudblood**

  
Good _God,_ Draco felt sick.  
  
It was the first and only thought to pass through Draco’s head that morning as he knelt over the toilet. His eyes were heavy with tiredness and his head was pounding. His attention had been only on that first rush of sickness as he leapt from his bed, only just making it to his and Granger’s joint bathroom in time. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself and bemoaning how rough he felt, that he took a while before he silently began to question why? Why did he feel so sick?  
  
Then it all came rushing back, making Draco vomit again.  
  
Draco remembered the incident with the Fire Whiskey, and then, subsequently, the incident with Granger.

Shit.

Slumping back, away from the toilet, Draco reached up to flush the chain, feeling worse than ever.  
He had stared at Granger, drank her body in with his eyes. He had touched her. Remembered distinctly how his fingers had curled tightly into her silky soft hair, how he had held her there, the bottle of whiskey pressed against her head.

Draco spat into the toilet, bile rising with the flood of memories. He could remember forcing Granger against the table, pushing at her. The memory of the thudding sound of her hip hitting the table echoed through his pounding head once again. He remembered the sheerness of that white vest top as it soaked up the whiskey he poured over her head, the dusky pink of her nipples as he had cornered her against the table. He’d actually pinned her there, forced her down upon it. He’d leant into her, tasted her fear in the air around him… tasted it on her whiskey-sodden skin.

Fuck!

Leaning forward again, Draco spat into the toilet again, the bile burnt in his throat, but he had nothing left to bring up.

  
Draco’s head was cloudy as he tried to remember the previous night all too vividly. He remembered licking slowly up the curve of Granger’s dainty neck and the delightful quiver of her body as she tried not to react to it. He recalled vividly how he had licked up her chest. How he had tasted her, lapped up the whiskey on her skin, lapped up the muddied, sullied skin that was Hermione Granger’s. The taste of her was still in his mouth, bitter and burning along with the vomit.  
  
But as Draco’s head was beginning to clear, he was aware that there was more, and it was beginning to fill a confusing gap within his head. Something else had happened.  
  
Draco could remember the scars. Remembered Granger’s screams and remembered the pounding of her fists against that portrait door as his head thudded in time to it. He had left her there. He had threatened her and frightened her and then he finished it off with the decision to walk away… No, not to walk away.  
  
Draco finally remembered, as he clawed the memories from the dark place that hurt his head. He remembered arriving at the Hufflepuff Common Room. He had been so drunk by then that he wondered vaguely how he had gotten there and back without being seen.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Rubbing his face, Draco felt sick and groggy, utterly depleted as he recalled yet more memories from the previous night. He had gone to Mouse-girl’s common room, sought her out specifically.

Fuck.

Draco cursed inwardly again, pinching the bridge of his nose, remembering how he had knocked and waited outside the portrait for the kid who had answered to go and get the little bore. Mouse-girl had come to the portrait hole clad in pink flannel pyjamas and did her usual red-faced blush. Draco had smiled at her; given her that lustful look that made any woman buckle. Any woman but Granger.  
  
Draco had taken Mouse-girl by the hand and led her away from her Common Room. He could recall wondering where he should take her before somehow it came to him through the drunken haze, that the Room of Requirement would do just fine. So, there he had led her, hand in hand as they hurried silently through the night.

Then it was even more of a blur.  
  
Draco could only recall vague details about the room that had made itself available to them. A four-poster double bed with luxurious bedding, flames blazing in the fireplace, deep plush carpet. He remembered Mouse-girl sitting, awkwardly at the edge of the bed, waiting for him to guide her.  
  
As Draco sat on the cold, tiled floor of the bathroom he remembered only flashes of the previous night, and relived it all with horror.  
  
Draco had slipped off his shoes and socks without a word passing between the two of them. Mouse-girl had fidgeted uncomfortably, making a questioning, nervous noise. Draco cut her off before she could speak by cupping her face with his hand and leaning forward to kiss her. Without complaint the shy and nervous girl had let him lay her back, letting him kiss her at first before she began to kiss him back. Maybe the girl wasn’t a complete novice, but innocent enough for Granger to want to protect her. Granger.  
  
Stupid. Fucking. Granger.  
  
Draco’s teeth bit into the Mouse-girls lip, making her cry out slightly. But her voice was too high-pitched. It sounded wrong. Reminded him that she wasn’t the Mudblood that he hated.  
  
But part of Draco wanted it to be.

A sickening part of Draco’s rotting brain had wanted it to be Granger lying there beneath him, giving in to his every touch, like the mewling Mouse-girl beneath him as he groped at her. Wanted it to be her muddied skin that he was tasting. Wanted it to be her stupidly long and slender legs that he was running his hands along as he slid the pink flannel pyjama bottoms from the girl who was keening at his touch. All so that he could pretend. Pretend that this girl was Granger, wearing those stupid fucking shorts she liked to wear so much.  
  
Draco had to be ill. Had to be, because he hated her. He fucking _hated_ Hermione Granger. So of course, the last thing he wanted was her body under his? Wasn’t it? But as he sat, slumped upon the bathroom floor in the cold light of day, he remembered the conflict inside him the previous night.

Draco had wanted to devour her, to consume Granger completely. To make her the whore that she was supposed to be. Wanted to take away the pureness in her that shouldn’t even exist, because Granger had light running through her veins, where everything he had was dark, dirty and deadly.  
  
Closing his eyes Draco heard the Mouse-girl moan beneath him once more as memories continued to add themselves to the mess that was his brain. He had barely been aware of the ministrations his fingers were producing of their own accord. He’d had that girl lying beneath him, moaning into his mouth as he kept his eyes closed tight. He’d had that girl beneath him, and yet none of his thoughts were on her.  
  
They were only on Granger. Stupid, Mudblood, Granger.  
  
Draco glanced down at the Mouse-girl and had to close his eyes. Block her out. Because he didn’t want to see her blush covered face and mousey straight hair. He wanted silky soft curls to cover the pillows. He wanted Granger’s flame-filled eyes and ripened lips. He wanted to caress her flushed and creamy skin with his.  
  
Draco had felt nauseous even then. Felt sickened to his stomach, because the whole time his attentions should have been on that mousey girl on the bed beneath him. The one that was parting her legs so easily to him, yet all he could think of was Granger.

The stupid, filthy Mudblood. The one that had pushed and shoved at him just hours before, not once parting her legs to him like that girl was doing now.

Draco had tried to put the Mudblood whore- who was anything but- from his mind, but as he had licked at Mouse-girl’s skin he felt a jarring stab of disappointment when he couldn’t taste Granger’s fear upon his tongue. As the Mouse-girl licked at his chest, at the lingering traces of Fire Whiskey, he wanted to look down and see riotous curls and defiant eyes.  
  
Merlin, what the hell was wrong with him?  
  
Granger. Stupid Granger.

Draco’s shaking hands moved to his belt, pushed his black slacks down over his hips and positioned himself about the willing participant beneath him. The one who was moaning and moving against his skilled digits. The one that wasn’t her. Wasn’t Granger.

Draco just had to get this over with, because Granger was the reason he was here after all, and he hated the fact that he was so damn hard because of her. Hated the thoughts that she had poisoned his head with. Thoughts about legs and lips when they should have been about retribution. About fucking her up far beyond any other punishment he could ever really give her.

That’s right, Draco was supposed to be showing her how she had failed to protect the innocent girl beneath him now, whatever the fuck her name was. He was supposed to remind Granger that this was her fault. Make her realise what a mistake it was to mess with Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin. Make her realise where her place was. Mudbloods followed the orders of Purebloods and when they didn’t, they were punished. _This_ was Granger’s punishment. He just needed to shag the innocent Mouse-girl and break Granger’s heart into fucking pieces. Because it had always been about her, right from the very beginning.  
  
Draco had been aware of how much moaning the Mouse-girl was making and how it sounded all to wrong. It wasn’t Granger’s clamped-lipped whimpering as she refused to call out, refused to let him see her cry. He looked down at the girl beneath him, telling himself just to shag her, just do it. Get it over with and get Granger out of his fragmented, clearly mental, mind. But he heard Granger’s voice echoing in his head and this time it wasn’t her whimper.  
  
_“Malfoy stop it!_”  
  
Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at Mouse-girl, her blue, lust-filled eyes looking up to his, but her eyes were water when he wanted fire.  
  
“Hmmm…”  
  
The Mouse-girl smiled, flushed post-orgasm before she questioned him quietly.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
The girl’s arms came up to wrap around his neck as Draco waited there, still as stone. She reached up, kissing him, encouraging him,her tongue sliding along his. He let her, began to kiss back, leaning down into her a little more.  
  
_“Stop it!”_  
  
That voice again. Just like earlier.  
  
Mouse-girl wrapped her legs around Draco’s waist, all too short and just not right… Just not hers.  
  
The girl moved against him, holding him close, awaiting him. Draco knew that he should move. He most definitely ought to get it done and over with. No more fucking about, because the more his thoughts filled with Granger, the sicker he felt.

Draco opened his eyes once more and saw the confusion in the Mouse-girl’s blue eyes as she looked up at him, before the drunken haze reminded him of Granger’s brown fearful ones.  
  
_“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!”_  
  
Draco suddenly flung himself backwards. His back hit one of the bottom posts of the bed as the Mouse-girl sat up, wide-eyed and confused. She pulled the blanket up over her naked body as she silently questioned him.  
  
Breathing heavily, trying to keep the sickness at bay, Draco swung his legs over the bed, shock and confusion racing through his head.

_What was he doing?_  
  
Because Draco had _never, ever_ not gone through with something like that, even if just for the fun of tormenting someone, and right now he was supposed to be tormenting Granger. But all that was happening was her tormenting him.  
  
“Draco?” That small, annoying voice that was too high-pitched to be Granger’s began to question him.  
  
Shit.  
  
Moving to pull on his boxers, Draco ignored his immediate frustrations. He had to get out of that room. He had to get away from that girl. Away from those thoughts that were driving him insane and sickening him to his core.  
  
Draco pulled on his trousers as the Mouse-girl got to her feet, wrapping the bed sheets tighter around her.  
  
“Did I do something wrong?” The girl began to question, annoying him.  
  
“No.” Draco said as he tucked himself away and zipped up his fly carefully, before turning to her just the once, his head spinning.

Shit he was so drunk.

“Just… I’ve just got to go okay?”  
  
And Draco was sure that it wasn’t, as she stood there looking small and helpless, watching him leave. He turned back just the once, his shirt in hand.  
  
“If you tell anyone about this… You’ll be sorry.”

Draco vomited again. Remembering it all just made things so, so much worse. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? What was so wrong with him that he had turned down a shag, in the middle of the act, because all he could think about was Granger?  
  
But that was it. That had to be it. It was Granger. Stupid, _fucking_ Mudblood, Granger!  
  
Granger had somehow completely consumed Draco, inside and out. Somehow this mission to bring about her downfall, was threatening to bring about his.  
  
After showering and dressing, Draco staggered down the stairs to the common room. What he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

There, asleep on the sofa, lay Granger. Her brow was furrowed, and she turned in her sleep slightly, her dreams obviously something that she was unsuccessfully trying to escape from. She was curled up, wearing a baggy jumper and different pair of stupid shorts from the night before. Her hair was falling out of a bun and had the suspicious look of having been washed clean the previous night.  
  
Draco vaguely wondered why he couldn’t remember Granger being there when he had come back from the Room of Requirement. Then he noticed his shirt on the end arm of the sofa, telling him that he had obviously seen her and lingered there.  
  
In a flash, Draco remembered entering, seeing Granger lying there and his groin had hitched, reminding him that he had just walked away mid shag. Reminding him that his cock was only hard because of her. Just from mere thoughts of her. Granger and her long, slender legs were taunting him.

As Draco had surveyed Granger, he had noted that her eyes looked red, like she had been crying. But somehow, in some sordid way, it only made her look more beautiful. More broken.  
  
Draco licked his lips as he stood there, remembering the silent battle with himself as he had stood before Granger’s sleeping form the night before. And thank Merlin, that the Pureblood in him had won that inner war inside his head. He had retreated to his room- because that’s what it had really been, a retreat. He hated himself for that, his head beat harder inside his skull and he held back another wave of sickness.  
  
All her fault. It was all her fault.  
  
Draco left before Granger could wake. Before she could question him.  
  
Before Granger could spread her poison further.

At breakfast that morning Draco was pleased to see that Mouse-girl seemed to have kept to her word. He caught a glimpse of her over at the Hufflepuff table and glared at her warningly. The Mouse-girl had blushed but quickly turned back to her breakfast before he did the same. Pansy prattled on relentlessly beside him, talking about Merlin only knew what, making his headache worse.

Draco picked at the food on his plate, his stomach unsettled. He left most of it after chasing it around his plate with his fork. He snapped angrily at Pansy when she asked him what was wrong, insisted that it was nothing, when it was anything but.

Even now, Draco’s eyes unwittingly sought Granger out. They landed on Potty and Weasel and watched as they looked around worriedly for their Mudblood friend. It wasn’t until breakfast was almost over that he finally saw Granger enter.

Draco could have predicted that Granger would head straight over to the Mouse-girl and begin to question her. He watched the encounter with interest, Granger’s eyes filled with concern, worry… not enough fear.  
  
But then Granger was always one to act strong, wasn’t she? One to pretend.  
  
Draco took another sip of his black coffee, keeping his eyes on the two of them. He saw Mouse-girl’s eyes flicker fearfully at his for a moment, before she blushed and lowered her head. She shook her head in answer to Granger’s question and Draco watched Granger freeze where she stood, her eyes widening as she took in the low hanging of the girl’s head, the red face, the shame-filled blue eyes.  
  
Just in time, Draco smirked darkly at Granger as she looked up. All too forced and all too fake for his liking, but she didn’t know that.

This was it. The moment this had all been leading to.

_I hope you’re watching father. Retribution. Vengeance. I hope Granger fucking chokes on it._  
  
Draco surveyed Granger as realisation washed over her, feeling something roiling in the pit of his stomach at her reaction. Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in disbelief even as she stared at him. She wasn’t pretending this time, and the horror on her face was glorious.

Granger’s eyes flickered down to the Mouse-girl, then back at Draco once more, before he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. She stepped back as he gave her a little wave, before she turned and fled the Great Hall.  
  
As if on cue, Granger’s lap dogs had gotten to their feet. Having followed her gaze, Potty and Weasel glared furiously at him and he met their glares, head on.

_That’s right Potty. I did that. I’m responsible. So why don’t you head on over and try to show me what happens when I mess with your Mudblood whore. Why don’t you come and give me the punishment I so obviously require? Maybe then you’ll knock some sense into me. Knock all the Granger out._

Draco smirked back at Potty and Weasel, silently daring them as he stuffed a piece of egg into his mouth. They weren’t important enough for him to interrupt his breakfast.

The day took too long to end. Draco’s hangover had left him feeling sickly and groggy and he begged silently for his bed. But it was worth hanging around, worth it for the calculating glances he received from Wonder-Boy Potter and his Bloodtraitor sidekick. Worth it to glance over at Granger’s empty seat in class, reminding himself of what he’d managed to achieve and why. The bitch deserved it after all.

No. Draco made sure to see the day through, to return Potty and Weasel’s angry glances with a proud, dark smirk. He ignored the pounding of his head and Pansy’s incessant questioning.

“What is going on with you?” Draco barely managed to ignore Pansy as he packed his potions ingredients away. “It’s something to do with Potter, isn’t it?”

Draco had said nothing as he slung his bag onto his shoulder.

“Or is it that stuck up cow, Granger?”

Draco’s eyes fixed on Pansy’s.

“Just shut up Pans, for fuck’s sake.”

Draco had walked hurriedly from the classroom, letting Pansy run after him as he headed to the Slytherin common room.

“I’m sorry. You just seem so…”

“So… _what_, Pans?” Draco growled at her as they headed along the corridor.

“So… distracted.” Pansy had replied.

Draco had chosen to ignore her, but she was right. He was distracted. Even now, even though everything had gone as planned, his thoughts were rife with thoughts of _her_. Granger.

  
The day finally came to an end and Draco travelled from the dungeons back to the common room he shared with the Mudblood, a grimace of a sneer plastered to his face. He couldn’t trust himself to suddenly wear it if he saw that look on her face again; the startled, wide-eyed, tear-filled look of horror that she had given him at breakfast had haunted him.  
  
And Draco had no idea why.  
  
As Draco climbed silently through the portrait hole, he ignored the painting of the pure-blooded woman, preparing for Mudblood’s outraged stance that was sure to greet him. With a silent intake of air, Draco looked up, expecting to see her there, clad in those abominable shorts.  
  
But Granger wasn’t there.

Draco swallowed down the bile when a wave of disappointment washed over him. He stood for a second before frowning at himself. What the hell was he doing? He should be _glad_ the bint wasn’t there to argue with. Wasn’t there for her voice to grate across the inside of his skull.

Crossing the common room quickly, Draco climbed the stairs to their bedrooms silently. Near the top of the winding staircase, he heard muffled voices coming from Granger’s room. Knew that he should ignore them, continue onto his room. But his feet came to a stop just outside the door, and he found himself listening.  
  
“Just ignore him ‘Mione. If Emilie was stupid enough, after all your warnings, to let him touch her… well then, it’s her own stupid fault.”  
  
Weaselbee’s voice.  
  
“Look ‘Mione, it’s Malfoy. He’s a bastard. He’s always going to be a bastard…”  
  
Potty’s.  
  
“If you let him see that it bothers you, then he’s only going to do it more… ‘Mione, _you_ told _us_ that remember?”  
  
Draco clenched his fists and couldn’t for the life of him work out exactly why it bothered him hearing Potter speaking so affectionally to her. Or why it bothered him that Potty had called her by that stupid nickname of hers. 

‘Mione. When it should only be Mudblood bitch. Stupid whore.  
  
“I know…”  
  
With a stilling of his blood, Draco could hear the tears in Granger’s strangled voice before she cleared her throat. So suddenly he felt sick again. Sicker than before for some reason.  
  
“But, he hurt her to get at me…I just feel like I failed her.”  
  
Draco felt like someone had punched a hole in his chest but had no idea why. This was what he wanted after all. The desolation. The vengeance. The retribution. But he had no idea why he abruptly had to leave that place outside Granger’s bedroom door and retreat once more to the confines of his own room where everything inside it reminded him of who he was and what it meant; Draco Malfoy, the pure-blooded Prince of Slytherin. But what did it mean that Granger, the Mudblooded Gryffindor was so imbedded in his psych, tearing at the inside of his skull?  
  
Draco had absolutely, no idea.  
  
  
  
  



	6. Disgusted by the Mudblood

New A/N: So I’m off to hospital for a month on Sunday so updates might be slow or non-existent over the next couple of weeks. It depends on how well things go. Please feel free to message me. I’ll need the encouragement and distractions ‘:)

Original A/N: Okay, so surprisingly I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I couldn't think of a more appropriate title though :( So if you can please let me know? Also, I am looking for someone who would like to make me a banner for this fic so if you're interested please email me [Gryffindorgirl2010@hotmail.co.uk](mailto:Gryffindorgirl2010@hotmail.co.uk).

  
Oh, and also I have a tumblr account now :)  
http://gryffindorgirl7777.tumblr.com/  
  
  
  
**Disgusted by the Mudblood**  
  
  
Why Draco felt like he was hiding, why he felt so suddenly sickened after hearing Granger’s upset voice, he had absolutely no idea.  
  
Draco was sure that it was just because Granger was a stupid, stinking Mudblood. Just because that voice of hers oozed out the dirt and filth that ran beneath her skin, the muck that coursed through her veins and corrupted the air around her with that muddied poison. The toxic, venomous words that she’d spoken had sliced through Draco’s purity, cleaving him in two, but wasn’t that just her Mudblood venom affecting him?  
  
Please?

_“But he hurt her to get to me… I just feel like I’ve failed her.”  
_  
Please let it be that.  
  
Because so suddenly Draco wasn’t so sure. He felt so sick. So sick-to-the-fucking-stomach ill. He felt the need to rush back to the bathroom, to vomit up the rancid words he’d heard from beyond that bedroom door, but moving to that conjoined bathroom would only take him closer to Granger- closer to those waves of putrid muddiness.  
  
So Draco would stay where he was, pressed against his bedroom door, breathing heavily to try and keep the nausea at bay. Reminding himself that Granger was everything that was wrong with the world. Everything that should be hated, and didn’t this prove it? Didn’t the way even her _words_ had made him feel prove it? That her Mudblood ways were nothing but disgusting and toxic, that she was nothing but a disease to the rest of Wizardkind?  
  
But it bothered him.

It bothered Draco that- despite the grogginess from his hangover- he’d felt fine until he’d heard that tear-filled voice. Damn it. Why was it still running through his head? And so what? So what if he’d upset the stuck up whore? It was her own fucking fault for being stupid-fucking-Mudblood-Granger. Stuck up, _frigid_, bloody Granger.  
  
Why? Why had Draco thought of Granger when Mouse-girl had been writhing beneath him? Why had he wanted the Mudblood’s long, slender legs wrapped around him, rather than that shy girl’s shorter ones?  
  
Draco slid down the back of his bedroom door, breathing heavier. He could taste Granger’s skin, still bitter on his tongue, and that was probably why he felt so ill. His chest heaved as he sat there, back against the door, body slumped. He ran a hand through his white blond hair, which was longer than it used to be, another part of the alluring Malfoy package.

It was just the hangover. Just the combination of hangover, sickness and being so damned close to that walking fucking disaster all the time.

Wasn’t it?  
  
  
It was dark when Draco finally left his room, trudging down the stairs to the common toom, ready to make his way to dinner. Draco berated himself for immediately looking for Granger, the moment he reached their shared common room. Scowl deep, his lip curling into a sneer Draco let out a small growl of frustration into the empty room.

That woman was poisoning the very air around him. Granger was polluting his very senses and pulling him under into the muddied water that her creamy, soft skin was bathed in. She had to be, and it was affecting him more than Draco liked to admit. Because Draco’s eyes lingered on that table, the one he had pushed Granger down against the night before. Felt her limbs struggle against him, pressed himself against her. Pushed her down and tormented her skin with his tongue.  
  
Draco spat on the floor, trying to erase the taste from his memory. He used his shoe to rub it into the carpet, the saliva and the taste of Granger, but it wasn’t gone from his mouth. Her taste was laced across his tongue, making him want to heave.  
  
Ignoring the nausea as best as he could, Draco made his way out of the common room, making sure to slam the portrait as hard as he could. The flirtatious portrait of the pure-blooded woman snapped at him, angry for the way he had slammed her shut. Instead of his usual, charming reply he ignored her completely, continuing his silent march to the Great Hall.

Draco marched silently, the stonewalls feeling more like a cage to him than ever before. He never missed the whispers and the dirty looks he got from the students around him, just like he never missed the expressions of admiration. But tonight, he was distracted. Distracted and nauseated.  
  
When Draco reached his seat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall Blaise surveyed him before speaking.  
  
“You look like shit mate.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
Because Draco didn’t have a better retort, and he _felt_ like shit.  
  
Blaise shrugged at Draco, handing him a goblet of pumpkin juice. Draco took it from him appreciatively, gulping the liquid down; trying to wash away the rancid aftertaste that had burnt its way onto his tongue and into his memory.  
  


Of course, Draco still felt unwell, but he played his part. He had the lines memorised by now, knew the role off by heart. Draco Malfoy, pureblood Prince of Slytherin. He wore the title as a badge of honour, kept his chin up, looking down his nose at all those insignificant idiots beneath him. He hated to admit however, that it could be lonely at the top. There were times that the loneliness engulfed him, swallowed him whole and dragged him down into the darkness. But this wasn’t something that Draco was free to express or discuss with anyone short of his own psyche and even that was now full of everything Granger.

It wouldn’t do for the famous trio to suspect that Draco felt as bad as he did. He was never anything but strong and sarcastic and beyond superior to them. It was one of the first things his father had taught him. Look the part. Fake it until you make it and never let them doubt that you’re always the one in control, the one with the power.

So, Draco was his usual arrogant, derisive self. He made mocking comments at a few of the Gryffindors, causing Goyle and Nott to guffaw with laughter. He even managed to stomach a few flirtatious comments in Parkinson’s direction and soon the pug-faced girl was fawning over him once more. The balance finally restored.  
  
After a while however, Draco fell silent, his eyes drifting over to the Gryffindor table. His fellow Slytherins were laughing at a crude joke of Goyle’s but whatever it was that he’d said, wasn’t enough to hold Draco’s attention.   
  
Before Draco even realised what he was doing, like he was drawn directly to her, his grey eyes rested on Granger. Stupid, fucking, disgusting Granger. Her frizzy brown head was downcast, not paying enough attention to the red-headed twat that sat beside her with his hand on her shoulder. She was chasing her food around her plate with her fork, and it looked as though she hadn’t eaten a single bite.  
  
Granger’s eyes were redder than they’d been that morning, Draco noticed. Her nose was pinker than usual, and she looked rather pale, sad and almost defeated. His blood raced, the feeling of victory beginning to pulse somewhere. But it was too quiet. It wasn’t the triumphant roar he had expected to feel rushing through his veins.  
  
Well, Draco wasn’t done yet. He could do so much worse to Granger, to _them_. The whole lot of them, the famous trio, bloody deserved it. He hoped they fucking choked on the success they had stolen, ripping his whole family apart in the process.  
  
Weaselbee was trying to comfort Granger, his arm wrapping round her, and Draco couldn’t help but stare at the way his fingers brushed her hair; those soft, riotous curls. He remembered the night before, remembered the disappointment he’d felt when he didn’t see them splayed on the pillow beneath him.  
  
The sickness washed over Draco anew.  
  
Draco blamed it on her poison. Blamed it on the drink. Would blame it on anything he bloody well could, and maybe, just maybe, he’d finally lost it. Maybe he was actually going insane? He wanted to smile at that, because how marvellous that would be compared to this? But he couldn’t smile. Couldn’t do anything but stare.  
  
Weaselbee’s fingers curled around Granger’s soft hair, and he brushed them through it… before they got tangled in it, causing her to cry out, her head tugged suddenly to the side.  
  
It reminded Draco so much of the other night. Of how, even just a night ago, he had yanked Granger’s head back, threatening to continue his aunt’s work. He had tasted the fear on her then, tasted it in the air around them. Now he was sure that if he licked his tongue along her soft, creamy skin, all he would taste was salt.  
  
The salted taste of tears and failure, because that was what Granger thought. She thought she’d failed that girl, that stupid, boring, dunce of a girl who had spread her legs so eagerly beneath him. But it really didn’t feel like victory. Not when Draco really thought about it… because he hadn’t succeeded.  
  
Not that Granger knew that of course.  
  
And Draco ought to laugh at the saline tears that Granger must have spilled endlessly in her room, drowning in her own defeat… because she certainly looked like she had wept for weeks.  
  
But Draco couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.  
  
Now mini-weasel was smacking her idiot older brother on the arm, trying to help untangle his fingers from Granger’s hair. Weaslebee was arguing back with his sister, looking red-faced and embarrassed. Why were all such fucking idiots? How in the hell had that bunch of moronic misfits saved the world from the Dark Lord?

Especially when Draco couldn’t save his family from that monster.  
  
For some unknown reason, it bothered Draco that Granger wasn’t shouting back at the ginger tosser like she normally would. Her head remained downcast, staring at her plate of food as the red-haired Weasels played with her horrendous, soft hair.  
  
It bothered him that Granger did nothing.  
  
Nothing at all.  
  
Draco’s eyes drifted abruptly over to the person next to Weaselbee, because so suddenly a pair of eyes was piercing his skin and he couldn’t ignore the burn they seemed to leave there.  
  
There, next to the fiasco with Granger’s frizzy mane and Weasel’s brainless fumbling, sat Potter. Emerald eyes were piercing Draco’s grey ones, and Draco wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen a darker expression on the face of the boy-hero.  
  
Draco stared back, happy to curl his lip into a slight smirk, that ended up almost more of a grimace. Inwardly he felt odd. Felt too sick, too wrong and altogether very much not _Malfoy_.  
  
So Draco glared back as Potter stared daggers. How long had he been staring? How long had Potter’s eyes been glued to him whilst he’d been staring at their Gryffindor Princess? Because going by that look on scar-head’s face, it certainly looked like it had been a while.  
  
“You alright mate? You haven’t touched your food.”  
  
Blaise’s voice suddenly snapped Draco out of his reverie and he looked up to see Blaise following his gaze, scowling at Potter’s dark glare. As he did, Draco felt ill at the realisation that suddenly washed over him. He’d been staring at Granger for so long that he hadn’t even lifted his fork.  
  
Draco looked down at his plate. It looked too much like hers. Too untouched. Too uneaten. But at least he hadn’t chased his food round his plate with a bloody fork.  
  
“I’m not hungry.”  
  
The words were dry in Draco’s throat, sticking, like ash. Because he felt so sick, so unlike himself, and the only reason he felt like that was her- Granger.  
  
“Dray, come on, have some of my pudding?”  
  
Draco closed his eyes, anger sparking when Pansy waved a chocolate covered profiterole in his face.  
  
“Pans, fuck right off.”  
  
Draco didn’t even snap at her. He said the words to her, no emotion in his voice, his chair grating on the flagstone floor as he got to his feet.  
  
“See you later.”  
  
Looking up as Blaise Zabini spoke, Draco was reminded of why he liked him. He wasn’t a tosser like the others. Wasn’t annoying.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Yet the word Draco murmured was too faint, too much to himself as he walked towards the doors at the end of the Great Hall.  
  
What in the hell was wrong with him?  
  
When Draco got into the cold and draughty entrance hall, he turned to one side of the doors and lent against the stone wall, breathing in the nullifying cold air. When he breathed it in that deeply, it almost cancelled out Granger’s sickness, and it was hers; it was that wave of nausea he only ever experienced around her.  
  
All Draco could do was try to ignore that nagging presence in the back of his mind that kept reminding him of how broken Granger looked. How damp and sodden with tears her skin was. She had looked so… hollow.

Exactly how Draco felt.  
  
Closing his eyes, his head down Draco took a few more deep breaths and tried to relax in the empty entrance hall.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
Great.  
  
Draco looked up to see that Potter was marching out of the Great Hall, glaring at him. Green hit grey and Draco straightened instantly, his classic Malfoy smirk in place.  
  
“What’s it to you Potter?”  
  
Draco spat his disgust at the boy with the lightning bolt scar, because Draco fucking hated him, almost as much as he hated Granger. And in that moment Draco was ready. He was ready for anything the scar-head threw at him, because Merlin, was he was going to throw it right back.  
  
Draco hoped it cracked his scarred head open.  
  
“What do you think you’re playing at?”  
  
Potter was obviously unhappy with Draco’s previous reply. Draco let out a laugh, reminding himself of who he was and how he was supposed to act.

“I believe I’m standing in the entrance hall _Potter_…” Draco spat his name with as much disdain as possible, the same disdain that had his body practically vibrating with a need to hit out. The need to hurt, to rip and to destroy everything about the Wizarding World’s saviour. “I know you’re dense but surely even _you_ can figure out that much?”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it Malfoy.”   
  
Merlin, the scar-head almost matched the venom in Draco’s voice.   
  
“Dunno what you mean Potter.”  
  
Draco taunted, acted innocent. Acted like he really didn’t know, because he knew it made Potter’s blood boil.  
  
“You know _exactly_ what I mean Malfoy. I saw the way you were looking at Hermione.”

There it was. Her name in the air again, hanging with the trepidation.  
  
“What? In disgust? Because I’m telling you Potter I’m not alone…”  
  
But the dark haired adolescent cut Draco off.  
  
“In the way that you couldn’t take your fucking eyes off of her!”  
  
Potter’s voice echoed in the empty entrance hall, reverberating off the stone walls, boring into Draco’s skull. His smirk fell. Waves of sickness engulfing him.  
  
“What the hell are you on about Potter?”  
  
But Draco’s words didn’t hold the same malice as his previous comments. There wasn’t enough enthusiasm in his question, not enough horror or outrage.  
  
Because it was true.  
  
For some God forsaken reason, Draco hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Granger. Merlin, he’d been practically drinking her in like water in the desert. The way she looked, the way she held herself, he’d swallowed down that image and that large lump in his throat was still there, an ever-present reminder of it.  
  
“I saw you Malfoy. I saw the way you were looking at her, all through dinner.”   
  
Draco had to close his eyes in revulsion as Potter spoke, prompting Draco to recall the sorrow in Granger’s eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Potter.” Draco lied again. “You must be delusional.”  
  
“Bullshit! _Bull-fucking-shit,_ Malfoy!”  
  
Potter spoke slower, more emphasis on his cursing. Draco was aware of the balled-up fists at the hero’s side. At how he almost growled the words through his teeth. His body tense and ready for whatever Draco might throw his way.   
  
Draco had to ignore the way his fingers twitched, how he wanted to reach for his wand. How much he wanted to hurt the boy-wonder in front of him. Not just for the reminder of his most recent fuck up, but for daring to exist in the first place. Because if it hadn’t been for him, him and the Mudblood, his father would be here now. His mother wouldn’t be confined to the manor, mourning him and Draco wouldn’t be standing there now, wrestling with the poison in his brain.  
  
“Just what the hell are you trying to pull?” Potter snapped. “Because you know that you hurt Hermione enough with your antics with that kid. You know that, so what the fuck else are you planning? Because I swear to God Malfoy, I would quite happily smash your face in right now for hurting her, and if you ever do it again…”  
  
“Go on then Potter.”  
  
Because Draco couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He was suddenly stepping closer, that Malfoy smirk in place. He was closing the distance between them. The distance that was there only so that they didn’t kick the ever-living shit out of each other, but he was happy to close it. He’d be happy to feel something other than that fucking sickness that still made him want to rinse his mouth out repeatedly.  
  
“What?”  
  
Draco noticed some of Potter’s bravado had faltered, but he still hadn’t stepped away.  
  
“Go on then. Smash my face in for upsetting your little Mudblood _whore_.”

That’s it. Say the words you know that Potty can’t stand to hear. Say all those disgusting little things about the Mudblood, the same words you murmured across her whiskey-soaked skin. Rile him up. Make your words pierce that holier-than-thou skin. Cut him deep. Punishing.  
  
“Shut your mouth.”  
  
Potter was practically snarling at him now and Draco noticed that heat was rising on that scarred skin of his. They were so close now, merely a foot apart. He could feel the buzz of anticipation in the air between them, stretched so tight that it was threatening to snap.  
  
“I understand why you want to defend her, of course. You don’t want her to be upset with you, or she won’t spread her legs every night…”  
  
“Harry!”  
  
Draco closed his eyes in annoyance. In anger. Nauseated.  
  
Because it was so fucking perfectly typical. So annoyingly on queue to hear that voice just before the pummelling was supposed to occur.  
  
When Draco opened his eyes again, Potter had frozen, arm back, obviously about to punch him, but Potter wasn’t looking at him anymore. His head was turned in the direction of the Great Hall, where that grating voice had called out from.  
  
Draco followed Potter’s gaze reluctantly, wanting to spit at the taste that rose up in his throat once again as his eyes landed on Granger.  
  
Granger’s face was horror-stricken, looking only at her precious Wonder-boy. She didn’t even consider a glance in Draco’s direction, and for some reason that made his blood boil far more than any of Potter’s words had. She hurriedly closed the doors to the Great Hall behind her, eager to protect scar-head from being caught by any staff members.  
  
“Harry, what do you think you’re _doing_?”  
  
The disbelief in Granger’s voice just irritated Draco further. It made his skin crawl, his blood itch beneath his veins as she berated her precious Potter for fighting.  
  
Draco remembered back to the night Granger had told him that she knew. The night she made guesses that were all too correct. Telling him how she knew that Draco wanted to fight them, telling him she knew the reason why. Draco would continue to swear otherwise, but maybe it was true.

Maybe Draco did want to be punished, and right now, after staring at Granger all through dinner, he hoped that someone would punish him. He hoped that someone would smash his bloody skull in, because maybe then it would stop pounding. Maybe then it wouldn’t be full of thoughts of her.  
  
_Just come on Potter. Come on and hit me for staring at your precious Granger princess. Because you don’t know that I’ve done so much more, and how I’d love to tell you- if it wouldn’t affect my reputation that is. How I’d love to tell you that I pressed her up against the table, pinned her down beneath me and licked across her skin._  
  
Had Draco not been so disgusted with himself, had it not been so against everything he stood for- he might just have mentioned it. Just to get Potter’s skin up. Just to get the dickhead to punch out and hopefully collide with him.  
  
“You didn’t hear the things he said about you ‘Mione.”  
  
Draco chuckled at that, receiving a glare before Granger was at Wonder-boy-Potter’s side.  
  
“I don’t care what he said Harry. You can’t fight. You’ll get into trouble.”   
  
Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. At Granger’s need to be the prim and proper adult in the conversation, despite the fact that both he and Potter had both done far worse things than beating the shit out of each other.  
  
“Remember what I said about upsetting her Potter. You want to be careful not to do that.”  
  
Draco’s snide remark made Wonder-boy jolt forward and Draco licked his lips, bracing himself for the impending impact of Potter’s fist with his porcelain skin. He could taste that devastating, delicious thrill of anticipation and exhilaration as it coursed through his blood. But the taste was too fleeting, leaving him wanting, needing to push Granger aside because she’d foolishly leapt in front of Potter, holding his struggling form back.  
  
“Harry! Harry! Listen to me!”  
  
Potty really was riled up now and Draco was smirking, a constant sneer on his lips. He was so close, and how he would love for Potter to hit him. Just the once. Because Merlin, how he would smack him right back... For so many different reasons.  
  
“Harry come on! Let’s just go up to the Common Room. I’ll help you with your Potions essay.”  
  
Draco let out a loud bark of laughter at the Mudblood’s desperation. Homework. Her idea of calming Potter down was to mention _homework?  
_  
“Just shut _up_ Malfoy!”  
  
It was the first time Granger had spoken to him since the events of the previous night, and for some God forsaken reason, Draco fell silent. His mouth closed as though outside himself and he stood there, watching the fray before him.  
  
Granger’s voice had sounded so desperate. So in need of Draco to actually stop speaking so that she could save her precious Potter from making a mistake, and so for a second he did… before silently rebuking himself, because what the fuck? Since when did _he_ do what _she_ said? Or what she wanted?  
  
He was Draco Malfoy for fuck’s sake.  
  
“Harry… Please?”  
  
Draco watched as Potter finally took his angry emerald eyes from Draco’s and looked down at the body holding his. Granger’s arms were wrapped around him, her chest pressing against him as he pushed against her, struggling to get past.  
  
It annoyed him. For some unspoken, appalling reason, it annoyed Draco that Potter’s body was pressed against Granger’s and that he wasn’t responding to it. In any way. When he_ should_ be utterly disgusted.  
  
Draco watched as Potter’s eyes softened at the sight of the brown ones gazing worriedly up at him. Draco had no doubt they were wide and wet and typically pleading.  
  
Finally Granger’s boy-hero stepped back, making Draco’s scowl deepen.  
  
“Doing what she wants just to ensure you get some pussy later? That’s weak Potter.”  
  
Draco sneered at the sod, hoping to set him off again, knowing that it was actually his rebuke that was weak.  
  
Potter merely looked up at him, already having stepped back from Granger. His arm was around her now, encircling her waist as though to reassure her.  
  
“Do you know what? You can say whatever you like Malfoy…”  
  
Potter was shaking his head, in something like disbelief.  
  
“The whole school knows that the vile shit spilling from your mouth is bull, because ‘Mione’s not a slut like the girls that you fuck about with. She gets a lot more respect and far more admiration from other guys than any of your slags ever will.”  
  
Draco snarled at that. What did he care if the women he fucked got respect? Granger was a Mudblood, therefore she shouldn’t have _any._  
  
Granger looked up at Potter disapprovingly as they started to walk away, heading towards the stairs. But something was screaming inside Draco’s cavernous skull, crying out for him to restore the balance. To call Potter back and make him hit out. Make his fists collide with that immaculate Malfoy porcelain skin.   
  
“She’s a Mudblood Potter. She’ll never be anything more than a whore. I bet it’s the only reason you and Weasel keep her around.”  
  
Draco called after them and Potter turned, but annoyingly Draco noticed that Granger stayed still, not turning to at him. It bothered him too much that she had barely glanced at him at all throughout the whole affair. It left an unsettled disquiet humming in his veins.  
  
Potter looked back at Draco sceptically for a moment before speaking again.  
  
“You know what Malfoy? If I were you, I’d be more worried about this obsession you seem to have with Hermione’s sex life. For someone who claims to hate her so much, you seem to care a lot about who she is or isn’t fucking.”  
  
Fuck him. And fuck her.  
  
Draco noticed Granger glance back at him then, warm brown eyes hitting ice grey, her body tense. He watched as she then looked up at Potter, frowning at him for his last comment. But frustratingly Draco found that had no reply to that. He had no retort. He was devoid of anything that wasn’t stained with Granger’s bloody venom. He stood there, hot with rage, his body tense, fists clenched… and watched them walk away.  
  
“Harry please don’t ever say anything like that again.”  
  
Granger’s quiet voice carried over the silent entrance hall as she and Potter began to climb the stairs, his arm still on her waist. 

“You know I’m not seeing anyone, let alone _fucking_ them, but even so, you don’t need to tell _him _that_._”  
  
Merlin, the bint still sounded so endlessly fucking frigid. So disturbed by that term, that dirty word, even though Draco had heard her swear before.  
  
All Draco could do was watch as Granger left. Watch and seethe and loathe them, and oh, how he fucking loathed them.  
  
Draco hated that Potter had had the last word. That Granger had tensed at the comment. At the speculation.  
  
Didn’t they fucking get it? Draco had no obsession. He only cared because Granger was a fucking disease on the face of the Wizarding World. The more she mingled with the likes of Purebloods, the more of her toxic, venomous poison was spread.  
  
He was a Malfoy, so he fucking cared.  
  
But that was all.  
  
…that was all…  
  
  
A/N: :S What you think? x


	7. Revenge on the Mudblood

[ ](https://imgur.com/epNxiGo)

A/N: Hi there and happy new year! I’m so sorry for the long wait on this update. I was suffering from writer’s block and then from the flu. Nothing I wrote seemed good enough. I have the story all plotted out, but the standard of my writing seemed sub-par. I hope that the long wait and longer chapter make up for it though and that you enjoy this chapter. I’ll always welcome feedback. I’m also looking for someone to make some better art for this fic so that I might attract new readers, if any of you are up for the challenge? For now, I’ll have to make do with what I’ve got. I always post when I update on tumblr so if you’d like to follow me please do so.

<https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777>

Music:

  * Safe Place- Three Laws (I found this song incredibly fitting when I read the lyrics after finishing the chapter.)
  * The Temple- Three Laws

** Revenge on the Mudblood **

How _dare_ he?

How dare _Potty _say those things to him? How dare he even _insinuate_ the things he did?  
  
Draco was pacing back and forth in the Head’s common room, trying to walk some of his fury off into the old rug that lay on top of the grey flagstones beneath it. He had been doing so for a while now, well into an hour at least. Potter’s last words to him back in the entrance hall had been reverberating inside his head, pummelling into the edges of his brain, worsening the pounding headache he had.

_“If I were you, I’d be more worried about this obsession you seem to have with Hermione’s sex life. For someone who claims to hate her so much, you seem to care a lot about who she is or isn’t fucking.”_

Disgusting. Who did Potter think he was? Saint Potter knew nothing, _nothing_. To suggest that Draco would bother himself over that frizzy-haired, Mudblood’s sex life was the same as suggesting that Draco wasn’t a Malfoy.

Draco had stormed outside and into the cold December evening the moment that Potter and the Mudblood’s backs were out of view. He had stomped his way down towards the lake, ignoring the light sprinkling of drizzle that had begun to seep through his robes. His rage was coursing through him, warming his blood as his black, dragon-hide shoes sloshed through the wet grass and mud.

Upon reaching the lake, Draco had picked up the first, sizable rock he had found and thrown it out towards the lake before blasting it to pieces with a well-aimed curse from his wand.

Why didn’t Potty seem to get it? Granger was a disease, a virus that needed to be eradicated and any concern that Draco had shown regarding her sex life was to ensure that she didn’t pass on the toxins in that muddied blood of hers. He cared_ because_ he hated her and anyone who said otherwise was a damned liar. Potter was wrong. So fucking, sickeningly wrong.

_He was right though._

A voice answered from the back of Draco’s head.

_Back in the hall… you couldn’t take your eyes off her._

Draco growled and threw another rock, his blond hair soaked and sticking to his forehead now as his curse obliterated the rock. He breathed heavily, his breath a fine, white mist rising before him in the winter air. His fingers curled tightly around another rock, aching from the cold.

Draco assured himself that the only reason he’d been staring at Granger was to soak up her sorrow. To bathe in it. Coat his pores in that salted, tear-stained air that hung around her. He’d stared to relish his victory over the girl that was inferior to him in every way.

_What about the other night? What about the thoughts of Granger that have been haunting you in every waking moment? Thoughts of long, shapely legs and creamy white skin. The images of her womanly curves and chestnut-brown waves? What about the previous night, where you lay atop that other girl and wished to Salazar that it was Granger lying beneath you? Where you wanted to hear her crying out your name. _

Draco wanted to heave. To heave it all up and out of him, purging his body and mind of everything Granger.

_Why did it bother you so much that she barely glanced in your direction, eyes only for Potter as you stood in the entrance hall, waiting for the smashing of fists into flesh? _

Draco leant over then, spat on the ground and gagged, trying to prompt his stomach into dispelling its contents. But of course, he had barely eaten a thing. There was nothing there to bring up, nothing but bile, which remained, burning in his throat.

It was all her fault. All of it.  
  
It had to be.

Granger’s poison had permeated Draco’s skin and poisoned him so deeply that those disgusting images were imprinted in the forefront of his brain. All of it was her fault. This disease he was so afflicted with and more.  
  
Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Potter would have gotten nowhere near defeating the Dark Lord without Granger’s help. What could that idiot Weasel have done? Other than scare the dark wizard off with his ghastly red hair, Draco couldn’t see how Weasel’s company had ever been an asset to the boy-wonder. No. This was all her.

Stupid fucking Granger, the bookworm with all her book-smarts had ultimately proven to be Potter’s greatest weapon. Draco had heard enough about the time they had all spent together over the previous year, hunting Horcruxes and evading the Dark Lord’s forces. If anyone thought that they would have gotten anywhere close to causing the Dark Lord’s downfall without her and that big brain and big hair of hers, then they were just a fool, plain and simple.

And therein lay the problem.

Granger was a Mudblood. She was inferior. Yet she was the reason the Dark Lord was dead. She was the reason Potter had been able to hide from Draco’s family and their friends. She was everything wrong in their world and yet she had proven to be an essential component in the downfall of life as he’d always known it. She was the slap in the face, counterfigure to everything that Draco had ever been taught about her kind. She was the anomaly, the thorn in his side that kept refuting the knowledge that his father had imparted upon him. The ideologies that he was raised on, as Draco’s father was, and his father before him.

So as far as Draco was concerned, Granger was the one thing that left him with doubt. She was the abnormality that had buried in, deep beneath his very being, and continued to twist and turn everything that made him so fundamentally a Malfoy. That fragment of hesitation, that itch beneath his skin. That she continued with impunity to tell him, _show_ him that everything was wrong, and that the evidence led to something so ultimately un-Malfoy was the problem. _She_ was the problem, and something burned at Draco on the inside of his head, telling him to eliminate it. Eliminate the complication and eliminate _her_ as this conflicting manifestation that contradicted his beliefs.

Draco ran a frantic hand through his sodden hair, a sneer aimed in the direction of the lake. His surroundings were highlighted only by a sliver of silver light reflected from the moon. The lake lay, eerie in the dark, the water rippling as raindrops crashed against the surface of the water. The sound of the torrential downfall was all that he could hear as he flung the rock in his hand out over the water, a flash of light from his wand hitting it a second later. The brick combusted with the impact of the violent curse.

No. This wouldn’t do at all.

Something within Draco was screaming at him to rectify this, return the balance. Granger was a Mudblood. That she was smart had no bearing on that at all. She needed to be shown her place, needed to understand that she was beneath him, in more ways than one. He could hear his father’s words inside his head, felt the need to chew her up and spit her back out, to show Granger her place in the world. Whatever perverse pleasure he had taken in his torment of her, he needed to be the one in control. Because whenever she was around him, for whatever god forsaken reason, he didn’t feel in control. Not one bit.

Draco ignored the shivering of his body as he made his way back up to the castle, wet from the rain and drenched in animosity. He clenched and curled his almost numb fingers into fists, felt only the heat of hatred running through his veins even as his chest rose and fell unevenly, his breath rising before him in the dark.

Robes dripping, Draco climbed the steps and entered the castle, making puddles of water on the flagstone floor of the entrance hall. He headed straight towards his and Granger’s shared common room, leaving muddy prints behind him. He didn’t even bother to remove the mud from his dragonhide shoes, despite it only taking a flick of his wand.

Draco knew that the expression on his face had to be venomous because the lingering students quickly scurried out of his way, fear alight upon their faces. That was the way he liked it. They should be afraid of him, of his position and his power… and so should _she_.

Thus, Draco had found himself dripping rainwater onto the rug he was now pacing across, walking mud into the fabric. He had undone the buttons on his robe and loosened his tie, the wet material of his shirt clinging to his skin and translucent. It reminded him of the previous night. Of Granger’s wet, white vest top, and her creamy skin beneath it.

Dragging a shaky hand through his untidy hair, Draco ignored how uncharacteristically dishevelled he must look, but felt it rather fitting that he reflected exactly how he felt inside his head. All because somehow, that Mudblood bitch had sunk her claws in and dismantled everything about him that made him who he was.

Draco looked up suddenly, when finally, he heard the portrait open. The very object of his loathing climbed into the common room, frizzy head down and deep in thought. Granger’s big, brown eyes were ringed with red, downcast and unaware that he was awaiting her. It occurred to him that everything about her was morose, sullen waves washing off her, over him and he bathed in them, a sneer of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

With a flick of his wrist, Draco aimed a disarming spell at the bushy haired, know-it-all. By the time Granger had looked up and noticed him there, her wand was in his hand. Draco clung tightly to the piece of wood in his hand, felt his fist clench tightly around it, itching to snap the cursed thing in half. She would be nothing without it. Nothing.

But Granger had caught herself the second her wand had left her hand, her eyes wide in surprise at first, before they found Draco, standing half-way across the room. Cinnamon brown met steely grey and she narrowed her eyes at him, staring daggers. The acrimony in her eyes was palpable and a fire burned there, an inferno that raged especially for him. One in which Draco knew she’d gladly watch him burn.

_Perhaps it would have been better if they’d left you to burn? If the Golden Trio had let the fiendfyre devour you?_

Draco mentally shook himself, holding Granger’s gaze, his body wound tight like a spring, his anger bottled and threatening to spill over at any moment. His eyes bore into hers, captivated by that repugnant glower she reserved solely for him and him alone. Merlin, he hoped she could _feel_ the loathing he was throwing back at her. He hoped it shook her to her core.

Granger turned abruptly, her large, brown eyes breaking away from his. Chestnut-brown curls whirled about her as she began to march the few paces back over to the portrait hole. Draco wanted to snarl, had to grit his teeth as he pointed his wand in the same direction.

_Who did she think she was? Did she really think he’d let her walk away from him?_

With another flick of his wrist and the mumble of a spell, the portrait swung closed with a resounding slam, just before Granger could reach it. Draco observed the small pause as Granger stood, looking at the closed portrait as it magically locked her in. He wondered if she was weighing her options. If she had realised how utterly helpless, she was in this situation; locked in a room with Draco Malfoy… wandless.

Draco pondered briefly whether Granger was frightened. If the gravity of the situation had blossomed across her skin yet, but then she turned again. Her chin was raised, her jaw set and she was hitting him with that red-hot and deadly glare, one that told him she knew the situation and still didn’t have the decency to be afraid of him.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of rainfall against the large glass windows and the flicker of flames in the fireplace. Tension hung, heavy, tangible and stretching between the two of them.

Draco observed the way Granger held herself, her hands balled into fists, her arms straight by her sides. He watched as she held his gaze, even as he took slow and measured steps towards her. She had to realise what he could do to her, remember what he’d already done. He briefly wondered if a bruise had bloomed across her hip, from where he’d thrown her down against that table.

Draco didn’t stop until he was almost a foot in front of her, his taller frame towering over her. Granger was looking up at him, her brow creased into a thunderous frown. He found his eyes trailing across her face, close enough to notice the tiny freckles on her nose. To his annoyance, Draco’s eyes glanced down to Granger’s lips when they parted, found himself entranced by the way her lips stuck together a little as she separated them to speak to him.

“What do you want Malfoy?”

Granger’s voice was cold but strong, filled with that Gryffindor bravado that made Draco shudder in disgust. She was obviously trying to show him that she wasn’t afraid of him, that she wasn’t about to cower… and wasn’t that part of the problem?

For a horrifying second Granger’s question stumped him. What did he want? But then Draco remembered that he didn’t have to answer her. Remembered that he was the one in control.

“Trying to run away Granger?”

Draco heard himself, heard the roughness and foreboding in his voice, heard the rancour in his low and measured question. He watched as Granger leant that little bit away from him, her tongue darting nervously across her bottom lip. His lip twitched as she seemed to catch herself and held her ground, never once looking away from him.

“Or were you going to fetch your little boyfriend, hmm? Were you going to go and hide behind Potty whilst he spits rancid words to defend your _Mudblood_-honour again?”

Draco was sure for a second that Granger’s teeth were grinding against each other before she spoke once more.

“I was thinking about going to the headmistress actually.”  
  
Granger’s voice was dripping with that matter of fact, indignant arrogance and Draco felt his blood boil at her sheer audacity. She shifted her weight and settled a hand on her hip, fixing him with a look of feigned assuredness. Her back was straight, her confident body language an outright lie that Draco found both insulting and infuriating.

“Oh, I don’t think so Granger.” Draco snarled, taking another step forward into her space, noting when Granger’s whole body seemed to jolt at the closeness. He saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes now, that delicious glimmer behind the golden flames.

Granger raised her chin higher in defiance.

“What are you going to do Malfoy? Assault me again?”

Draco had to stop himself from balking, ignore the sharp, ugly taste that word brought to his tongue. _Assault._ Draco swallowed it down to his depths with all the other rotten, nasty words that Granger had ever spoken.

“Don’t talk shit Granger. You know you loved it.” Draco jeered as she stood, eyes sparking, challenging as she slowly shook her head at him in disbelief. She moved then, went to walk around him towards the stairs to her dorm, but he stepped to the side, blocking her path.  
  
“Fuck you.” Granger practically snarled at him, her words heavy and dripping with insolence as her eyes glared up at his. Draco could almost feel the tiny vibrations of fury that ran throughout her body, could see the vehement hatred in her eyes.

“Get out of my way Malfoy,” Granger demanded of him, moving to the other side of him only to walk into him again when he cut her off. Her hands came out, shoving forcefully at his chest, but his Quidditch-toned body was resilient, refusing to move as she pushed at him. His lips curled up at the corners, a chuckle escaping as he took in her futile attempt at escape. But then she let out a frustrated growl and threw the entire weight of her body into his, making him stumble before he caught himself.

His smile faded immediately.

“Don’t touch me _Mudblood._” Draco’s voice was low and rough as it escaped his lips. A threatened warning.

“Or what? You’ll carry on your insane aunt’s handy-work?” Granger replied incredulously. “You don’t scare me Malfoy. Now move.” Her hands came up and pressed against Draco’s chest again, his eyes widening slightly, his nostrils flaring in fury and disgust.

But somewhere, deep at the back of his psyche, beneath the hatred and the bigotry, Draco felt a snake of uncertainty coil in the pit of his stomach. Something about mentioning his aunt. Something about that image of scarred skin that marred Granger’s stomach flashing through his head unsettled him. It caused a surging flood of doubt that he couldn’t escape, no matter how much he wanted to. Something about remembering Granger screaming on the floor in his family home, of him standing there and doing nothing, unable to look away. It made the sickness worse.

_Rectify this Draco. Restore the balance. Regain the power. _

The last shred of control over Draco’s temperament threatened to snap. His hands grabbed at Granger’s wrists as her palms pressed flat against his wet shirt again, held them tightly and tore them from himself, breaking that contact which made the blood beneath his skin pulse. She struggled of course, tried to pull away from him, but he held her wrists tightly, hoping that creamy white skin would bruise. Hoped the bruises reflected the ugly truth that coursed throughout her blood.

“No. Malfoy!” Granger snapped back angrily, trying to pull back from him harder now. Draco was grateful for that. Good old Granger. He had to admit, he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t put up a fight. And for a blessed moment, victory soared within him, heating his body as they both realised that he had her trapped in his grasp and there was nothing she could do to break from it.

But the moment ended too soon.

Granger began to thrash against him crazily, causing one of Draco’s hands to slip from her wrist. A small fisted hand beat down hard upon his chest and he had to step closer to her in order not to lose his grip on her other wrist. She really was going hell for leather, twisting her body, her arm swinging for him repeatedly like some wildcat. He had to duck out of her way several times, the anger in him rising as he tried to catch her arm again and hold her away from him.

It was Draco’s sharp intake of breath that broke the frenzy, when Granger’s nails scratched across Draco’s skin, across one of his high-cheekbones and he froze. He would have been surprised that she stilled too but his eyes were narrowing, blood boiling over. He watched as Granger’s eyes widened in horror for a second before she returned to struggling anew, panic seeping from her porous skin and into the air around them.

Draco grit his teeth, forcing Granger around so that he was out of the reach of her swinging punches. He almost didn’t hear her cry out when he forced her arm up behind her back, couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood pulsing in his head. He grunted in pain as the elbow of her other arm swung back, hitting him square in the stomach. He forced them forward, both taking several hurried steps before he slammed her against the nearest wall.

Draco heard Granger let out another cry as she impacted with the cold stone, knowing that he’d winded her thoroughly. His body pressed in against her back as her free hand pushed against the wall, trying to shove herself away from the stony interior of the castle he had flattened her up against.

Draco let out an unwitting, low growl as Granger’s arse rubbed a little too deliciously against his groin as she attempted fruitlessly to work her way out from under him.

“Malfoy, stop!” Granger’s voice sounded too strong, not broken down enough for his liking and so Draco fisted a hand into those soft curls atop her head. He yanked her head back, almost hoped that her neck would snap at the motion, but then it would all be over with too quickly.

“What did you tell Potter?” Draco growled out against Granger’s hair. “What disgusting, dirty fucking lies have you told him?”  
  
“What? What are you _talking_ about?!”

Draco could hear the tremor in Granger’s voice now. Was certain without a doubt that he was every bit as menacing to her as he had planned to be.  
  
“You heard me. What did you tell him about last night?”

Because Draco had been asking himself that question since the moment Potter had said those things to him. Inferences about Granger’s sex life. Things that made him want to heave.

“I… I didn’t tell him anything.”

Draco’s lips curled up at the corners at the high-pitched sound of Granger’s indignation. Typical Granger. Typical of her to lie to protect the wizarding world’s Wonder-boy.

“But that was my big mistake. I should have gone to Professor McGonagall the _second_ I escaped your foul and fucked up clutches last night.”

Granger bit the words out furiously before she moved again, having not given up the battle. She wasn’t about to submit, but neither would he. Draco was determined to put her in her place once and for all.

“So why didn’t you Granger?” Draco asked, yanking Granger’s head to the side as she let a grunt of pain slip from between her gritted teeth. With the strength of his grip on her hair she had to lean her head away, bearing the naked expanse of her neck to him. His mouth was at her ear now, breathing red, hot anger against her skin. “Why didn’t you tell them that I forced you down and tasted your Mudblood skin?”

To both Granger’s horror and his, Draco’s tongue slid out from between his lips, gliding a wet, hot trail along her neck. He told himself that she tasted bitter, that the taste of her skin repulsed him. He had to tell himself that… had to lie.

As Draco finished tracing that thin, wet line along Granger’s neck, he felt a shudder run along the length of her body and smiled darkly in triumph.

“Y-you’re messed up. You need _help_ Malfoy!”

Granger’s words tasted sour on his tongue, so Draco gripped her hair even tighter, heard her whimper as he pressed himself firmly and full-bodily against her soft, unyielding body. He squashed her hard against the wall with his body, had to ignore the traitorous sensations her struggling form elicited from it.

Draco chuckled darkly then.  
  
“I need help do I? How _kind_ of the Mudblood Princess to offer it.” Draco sneered mockingly. “How typical. How bleeding-heart-Gryffindor of you, Granger.”

“I never said that I was offering.” Granger bit out, struggling furiously against him. “You don’t _deserve_ my help.”

Draco’s amusement died at hearing those words.

“Answer the question Granger.” Draco growled, returning to his previous question, not liking the turn this exchange had taken. He pulled on Granger’s riotous hair again.

“Why didn’t you tell Potter about last night and why did Potter say those revolting things to me if you didn’t mention anything to him?”

“B-because I felt sorry for you, okay?”

Granger’s surprising response made the sickness inside him rise, along with anger. _She_ felt pity for Draco-fucking-Malfoy? A _Mudblood_ felt pity for _him? _He sneered down at her as she struggled against him in vain. His mouth felt dry as he spoke, and his words tasted like ash.

“_You_ felt sorry for _me?”_

“You were drunk, and you were _crazy_ last night Malfoy. Something is seriously wrong with you, and you screwed up, just like you’ve screwed everything else up in your life.” Granger replied furiously as she tried to push her way out from against the castle wall. “Maybe I thought that you’d realise how messed up things got and get help. That maybe you’d be sorry for it.” She breathed. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

And those words sounded too much like a promise.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to say a word to anybody.”

Draco’s words were dark and laced with malice, somehow finding it possible to push himself against Granger harder, forcing her chest to press against the chilled stone wall.

“Get off of me!” Granger shouted. “Let me go Malfoy!”

For a few moments more, the two of them did nothing but struggle against each other, bodies flattened together as one thrashed against the other, twisting and turning and almost melding into one. Somewhere at the back of Draco’s head, beneath the need to make her submit, to show her the power that he possessed, he was aware of the perverse and heated pleasure that rose within his bloodstream.

Granger’s growls of frustration and whimpers of pain were all that Draco could hear and as they struggled, he managed to press his leg between hers, pinning her in place. His trousers were still damp from the rain and were now pressing up against her centre. She shivered at the contact and he felt it thrum throughout her body. His hips brushed against her arse as he held her there, felt the trepidation at the intimacy of their new position coming off her in waves.

Granger fought him for a few more seconds, but Draco felt the friction against his leg as she writhed against him. She seemed to realise the precarious dilemma she found herself in, maybe felt the same heat rising in her as it rose in him. Draco felt Granger freeze and almost didn’t catch the whimper that she let out despite her lips being pressed tightly together. Draco revelled in the triumph as she forced herself to remain still.

Draco could practically see the cogs whirring inside that frizzy head of hers, Granger’s cheek pressed up against the stone now, her face betraying her discomfort… her fear of him.

Draco had leant closer to her, the scent of her jasmine shampoo tickling his senses. He angled himself so that his lips were closer to her ear, so that his sharp words could slice directly through her skull and whilst she was like this, with his body up against hers, she had no choice but to listen. No choice but to feel his cutting remarks as they pierced her skin. He hoped that she could feel it, every stabbing syllable. He hoped it fucking killed her.

“Now listen Granger.” Draco’s hot breath danced across her cheek as he spoke, his voice low, his breath ghosting over the shell of her outer ear. “You’re going to apologise… You’re going to say sorry for being such a stupid, stuck-up whore. You’re going to say sorry for every little lie that you told Potter and for bringing him into this in the first place.”

Draco’s whispered words were slow and menacing, pouring all the hatred he had for her out onto Granger’s skin, soaking it with the viciousness he was barely holding back from.

“But most of all, you’re going to apologise to _me_. Apologise for not knowing your place in this world, for not respecting your superiors. Apologise for the very blood that runs through your veins and the way it infects me with your very bloody presence.”

Draco noticed that Granger had stilled completely, could hear her heavy breathing, could taste the anticipation weighing heavy in the air. He looked down at her, his head tilted to one side, becoming entranced as her tongue came out to wet her dry lips once more. Had to swallow the thickness in his throat.

Draco’s steely eyes traced the heavy lashes that rimmed the fiery chestnut flames. Watched as Granger seemed to prepare herself before twisting her head as far as he would allow, chocolate brown meeting steel.

“And if I don’t?”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, realising that he’d been waiting with bated breath, excited by just the very idea of her ultimate submission to him. Merlin, how he wanted her to submit… just this once. How he wanted to see her on her knees before him, wet, hot lips and fiery eyes…

“What if I refuse?”

Granger’s words demanded Draco’s attention, distracting him from the twisted fantasy that had been beginning to form inside his head. He was grateful for that. It prevented him from heaving up his guts right then and there in front of her. Because that’s what thoughts of her did to him. They sickened him, and he had to be sick to be thinking of her like that in the first place.

“What then Malfoy? Are you going to push me down on the closest table? Fight me, scare me, abuse me? Or will you _hurt_ me? Hurt me just like your mad aunt did? Pierce my skin and spill my blood, sickened by the sight of it as it coats your precious _Pureblood_ porcelain skin? Will you bruise me? Hit me? Because you’re a scared and pathetic little boy who knows nothing, will _do_ nothing, other than what his bigot of a father has taught him?”  
  
Granger’s face looked resolute; sure. So sure in what she was saying and Draco felt her words twisting tightly inside of him, making it hard just to breathe. The bending, gnarly words took root and delved deeply into the pit of his stomach. The fury remained, but it took a back seat to the hurt she was driving into him.

“You’re a coward Malfoy. A pitiful little boy who doesn’t know how to think for himself. I don’t know what Professor McGonagall was thinking, letting you return to the place that you caused so much destruction to. All that blood, all that death, that’s on _you_ Malfoy.”

Draco stood frozen to the spot, his body almost completely numb as Granger tore his insides out and splattered them on the ground in front of them. He kept his disgusted sneer in place, tried to keep the emotion from his eyes. Didn’t want them to betray him to her, to show her how much her daggered words were penetrating him. Bitter words that drove deep inside his gut, so that all he could taste was iron-- the taste of blood.

“So, whatever the hell you think you’re doing Malfoy, trying to hurt me… it won’t change that. It won’t return the lives you took or the innocence you corrupted. It won’t undo the devastation, the desolation that you wrought upon this school and continue to fester. Look around you! No one wants to be near you. No one wants to know you, not even all those Slytherins whose parents wound up like your father, locked away because they were stupid enough to follow _daddy dearest’s_ repulsive ideologies. You say that_ I’m_ toxic? Look at the people you used to surround yourself with. The poisoned beliefs that you let fill your heads. You were already polluted Malfoy, but it had fuck all to do with me and doesn’t that just tear you up inside? Doesn’t that make you want to rip away at the inside of your own head? Because you were _wrong._ You were wrong and I represent that miscalculation of yours. I remind you of how much you let yourself _destroy_ yourself.”

Another dagger, another wound and Draco kept his mask in place, made his expression unreadable. Kept his features calm and collected, despite the turmoil that was wailing inside of him. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like something was slowly dying, somewhere in the darkest pit of his soul. It had been dying for a while now, but this was its swansong, its mourning lament… and it was so loud that he wondered how he could even work out Granger’s words over the sound of it.

Granger twisted her head, Draco’s fingers still tangled in her hair. He even felt the strands of hair that left her scalp as those deadly, blazing infernos inside the brown, glared up at him. Cold, grey eyes, staring down at those brown pits of endlessness. Staring at the fire Granger was spitting, the passion and anger she was wielding.

Merlin, how Draco felt that glare.

“So, go ahead Malfoy.” Granger hissed at him. “Whatever the hell you’re going to do to me just do it. The sooner you do it the sooner you’ll be shipped off out of here, away from this school and the people in it. Unable to do any harm to anyone else, let alone me. So, go on. Be a _man_. Be like your father. Go on! Hurt me!”

Draco’s hand thrust out, too fast for him to register the movement. A detonation inside his head, a loud ringing that filled his ears. Because he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to scratch out those self-assured, righteous eyes. He wanted Granger to feel every sharp incessant stab that she’d just hurled at him. Like shards of broken glass had pierced his skin and buried deep inside his bones, he wanted her to feel it. Make her feel the pain that was still twisting him up inside.

Inexplicably, as though outside himself, Draco’s fingers wrapped around Granger’s upper arm, so tightly that he hoped like hell he’d leave a mark. He moved back, just enough to force her around to face him, saw the flash of defiance in her eyes before they closed tight, preparing herself for the hit.

_Fucking hurt her. Go on Draco. Hurt her. _

So, Draco did the only thing he could think of that didn’t involve him tearing Granger into pieces and murdering her right there and then on the spot. With anger pulsing through his veins he shoved her back against the wall once more, insanity reigning… Before his lips crashed down onto hers.

Whatever Granger had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Draco briefly registered the soft velvet of Granger’s lips as he pressed his own his against them, so hard that he felt her head collide with the wall behind her. He watched as her eyes flashed wide in alarm, a noise of shock and disgust escaping her, but Draco’s lips were fused with hers, preventing her from uttering anymore excruciating remarks.

_Hurt her. Punish her Draco. For all those violent attacks that she just made on your very being, on everything that makes you Draco-fucking-Malfoy. _

Draco felt Granger struggle against him, but he’d quickly pinned his body back up against her, blocking her escape. She tried to move away from him of course, but his hand held her arm tightly, preventing it. She emitted another strangled exclamation as Draco wrestled with her, his lips leaving hers for barely a second before they found their way back again. The hand in her hair tightened, forcing her to still against him.

Draco watched as Granger froze, eyes glowering at him in heat-soaked rage and resentment. He felt his lips curl up at the corners then, let his tongue slip out from between his lips and glide slowly, teasingly along her bottom one. He felt the- potentially traitorous- shuddering tremor that ran throughout her body, as her eyes fell closed. He even let out a dark chuckle against her lips, before he bit down upon that plump and blood-filled bottom lip.

Granger cried out again, but Draco’s eyes fell closed in delirium.

Something inside Draco’s head had fractured. Straight up the middle split.

After all those times Draco had envisioned those brown, silken tresses on his pillow beneath him, and now his fingers were tangled in them. All those times Granger wore those stupid, bloody shorts in front of him, eliciting a twitch of his cock, and now he was pressed up against the heat of her body, could feel it like fire through their clothes. That beguiling warmth that was only building with a manic pace.

Every single little depraved and dirty fantasy that had ever filled his head regarding the Head Girl was now running riot. Granger was at his mercy. So defenceless and so vulnerable. So soft and warm…

Granger had opened her mouth to let a desperate and horrified yell escape her lips.

“What the _hell,_ Malfoy?”

But Draco took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside the cavernous heat that was the Mudblood’s mouth, stifling the sound of his own name. All those years he’d spent wishing that he could shut her up and now he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him as he silenced her with his tongue, his eyes falling closed.

Wet. Heat.

_Hurt her. Kiss her to kill her. _

Draco intended on doing just that. He poured every sliver of malice, every ounce of contempt into that kiss. Knew that this kiss would hurt her. Knew that he was returning the favour. In the moment he knew, knew that this was more than just a kiss. He could feel the sparks of revulsion as he moulded himself further against Granger’s body, ignoring the warnings going off inside his head.

And Salazar, was that kiss punishing.

A part of Draco hoped she couldn’t breathe. He hoped that Granger was suffocating, his head buzzing from lack of breath as he sucked the blood to the surface of that ripened, ready bottom lip. Ran his tongue along it, tasted- sweet and indulgent- before his tongue delved back inside her mouth. 

This kiss was frantic. Wild. It was his teeth biting down. It was Granger’s hands pressing at his chest, flat against Draco’s rain-soaked, transparent shirt. It was the faint taste of winter spices, the scent of jasmine invading his senses. This was satiating his cravings, drowning in the moist, hot taste of her. His tongue lashing out against hers, letting his tongue delve deeper. It was imagining something else exploring the heat of her throat. This was pleasure in the forbidden and sucking at her lip again.

This was dangerous.

This was deadly.

This was way more than Draco had bargained for and for a moment he really did consider that he had gone completely and utterly insane. But he knew the kiss hurt her. Could see the tell-tale glimmer of water in Granger’s wide doe-like eyes and hurting her was the goal. Hurting her, punishing her. All for being what she was and what she represented and for being so damn-lethally-spot-on in her assumptions. Merlin help him if he’d ever let her know it though.

Draco’s body was throbbing up against Granger’s soft, warm curves. His tongue silenced hers, her whining noises of distress muffled in his mouth. The sensation of wet silk and the taste of cinnamon as he consumed her. Something primal was awakening inside of him, rearing its ugly head at the savage nature of the situation. There was a dangerous and delightful twitch between his hips, a fire lighting in the depths of his stomach. He should be alarmed. He should be disgusted.

_Kiss her to** kill** her._

Draco felt Granger’s lips, tongue and body abruptly still as he laced it with all the hatred he had for her. Poisoned her with his tongue like she had poisoned him. Merlin, he could almost feel the thoughts turning over in her head, could feel her eyes burning through the inside of his skull as she took in her position and began calculating her escape.

_That’s right Granger. I have you now. You told me to hurt you and when I’m finished kissing you, I’ll leave you with nothing left but a shallow husk to replace all that self-righteous indignation. _

Because this was Granger. Head Girl, annoying, stuck up Granger, and all Draco could think about was how forbidden she’d always been. How those imbecilic lapdogs of hers were always guarding her, keeping her tucked protectively out of reach lest she be sullied. He smiled against her lips. They were going to be infuriated when they found out what he’d done- Revenge, for putting his father away.

Granger was moving again and this time, to Draco’s utter astonishment, it wasn’t to push him away. Suddenly one of her hands had reached up, her fingers threading into his white-blond hair, the other gripping onto his robe…

Holy fuck…

Granger was kissing him back.

Alarm bells rang in the back of Draco’s head, because this was the last thing he’d expected. But the warning in his head was a faint echo, lost to the insanity that reigned and buried beneath the hatred and the heat, the fury and detestation. Because this was Granger. Mudblood-fucking-Granger. After all those wicked thoughts that had ever permeated his head, telling him that he could shut her up, shove something in her mouth and down her throat, hand curled tightly in her hair and now look. Look at what he was doing. It was finally happening and those vicious little words that slid so spitefully from her tongue were now stifled against his. For a moment he was lost in her.

Lost.

So fucking lost in her.

Something soared inside of him. A nervous excitement, like beating wings within Draco’s stomach that he swore to himself was victory. Victory because Granger was finally submitting, serving her betters, being the little whore that he knew all Mudbloods to be.

Granger’s mud-soaked tongue wrestled against his, fighting for dominance as her fingers curled into Draco’s hair. Merlin, everything he’d put into that kiss, she was giving back. Even though they were kissing, they were still fighting. It was still a battle between them, but a different battle of tongues than they were used to. This time their tongues were clashing, thrashing against each other, fighting for dominance. The fingers tangled in his robes pulled a little at the fabric, and he took it as encouragement for him to press his hips against hers.

Draco heard the little gasp and whimper of a moan that escaped Granger’s mouth at the contact, at his hardened interest in her body. He leant back, pulled away from her lips for a moment. He stared down at her questioningly, taking in the mortified expression on Granger’s face.

They both mirrored each other for a moment, chests heaving within the confines of their clothes as they panted for breath. Granger’s heated, angry eyes were on his and her cheeks looked deliciously flushed.

For a second the whole world seemed to still, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

Draco knew he should be analysing the murmured sound that Granger had released, should be questioning what it meant, but he already felt the loss of her lips on his. He moved to reclaim them and was shocked when she moved swiftly to meet him halfway.

Draco knew that he should be disgusted, be pushing Granger away. But the fucked up, Granger-poisoned part of him couldn’t get enough. He was drowning on her, on her moistened lips and her lashing tongue. Drenched in her venom.

Draco sucked Granger’s bottom lip inside his mouth, felt it swell before releasing it, moving his mouth to the corner of her lips and down across her jaw. He reached her neck, grazed his teeth across her pulse, heard the quiet moan she tried to hold back as his lips continued to explore.

Draco’s ears were ringing, but the melodic sounds of Granger’s mewling noises rang clear across the crescendo of alarms going off inside his head. He felt his blood run hotter, a rising heat in the pit of his stomach as his heart beat faster inside his chest.

Draco felt the hand entangled in his hair tighten its grip as he bit at Granger’s skin, his tongue flicking across the delicate tissue on her neck. The enticing taste of sin. The hand pulling on his robes moved, held tightly to his upper arm before he felt the tug of hair, his head pulled back and her lips suddenly on his again.

This was wrong. This was so wrong and felt so good that it was shameful.

_This is Granger. Mudblood fucking Granger. The Precious Princess of Gryffindor… and look at what she’s doing… what she’s letting you do. _

Draco was indulging in the breathy, hardness of that kiss. The way Granger’s lips pressed hard against his, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip, so hard that it hurt. Pain to go with the pleasure. Rotten and all consuming… just like her.

Fingers moved from Draco’s upper arms, where Granger had been clinging to him. He felt them move to his robe and despite the voice at the back of his head reminding him of who she was, _what_ she was, Draco took it as an invite, pulling Granger from against the wall and towards him. He felt her body quake as his hand moved from her arm, snaking down her back, before landing on her arse.

_Your move Granger._

The innate, cunning, Slytherin part of him knew, knew that this crossed a line. Merlin, he’d crossed so many that evening, but he waited, expectantly for the sudden flailing of limbs as his hand cupped Granger’s arse and pulled the lower part of her body against his. He couldn’t help the low groan that escaped into her mouth, was sure that she could taste it- the need and the wanting.

_Fuck._

He shouldn’t.

Shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want any of this.

_You want all of this…_

But as Draco’s hardened cock pressed against Granger’s heat, the need was all he could think about. This violent, hungry kiss was devouring him, consuming all his sanity.

When Granger didn’t pull away, didn’t fight, but continued to pull his robes open, displaying more of his hardly-there shirt and porcelain skin, Draco took it as confirmation. Understood that she was saying that she needed this too, whatever the hell this train wreck was. Too suddenly he wanted that purity she emitted, the purity she shouldn’t possess that was lacing his tongue, wanted it to coat his cock and to bury himself deeply inside it.

Draco felt frustrated tugs at his robes as his lips moved to the other side of Granger’s neck, meeting similar frustrations when he reached her shirt collar. Surely, they would burn up in this heat if they didn’t divest themselves of the layers between them? The layers of fabric that were preventing her smooth, soft skin on his.

Finally, Draco released his grip on Granger’s soft and voluminous hair, his hands moving to tug at her robe. Had to find more bare skin. Still she hadn’t pushed him away. Still she was kissing him back, her hands moving to try and pull his rain-soaked robe from his shoulders. He was dissolving, melting into her, into that kiss. He kissed her like his life depended on it, and maybe it did, because he had to be dying to be kissing a Mudblood. To taste her lips, her tongue, and not be choking on her.

When Granger began to push him, her lips still pressed to his, Draco found himself submitting for a second, their lips parting. Heated eyes met, heavy lidded and dark. He let her lead them away from the wall for a moment before he silently berated himself. Even now they were competing for dominance, for superiority and this was her punishment after all, so there was no way that Draco was going to submit to her. To let her win. He was her better and he was going to make her believe it.

All Draco could hear was the frantic beating of his heart, loud enough that he was surprised that Granger hadn’t mentioned it. Could feel his blood pulsing through his body as he yanked Granger’s robes from her back, dropping them to the floor. She helped him rid of her of it, not once moving her lips from his neck where their ministrations had his eyes falling closed, his swollen lips parted at the sensations she was causing there.

Their frenzied, heavy breathing; louder and closer than the sound of the downpour at the window. The smell of rain on his clothes mixing with the jasmine aroma from Granger’s hair in the air around them. Draco whirled them around, glanced behind her at the sofa, determined to show her, he was in control. Always the one in control. Had to put her back in her place… beneath him.

When Draco shoved her back, he saw the alarm in those bright, brown eyes as Granger tumbled onto the sofa, skirt riding up a little. Creamy, naked thighs bared to him. He lost no time, didn’t give her the chance to escape before manoeuvring his lean body above hers. His eyes moved back to hers, daring her to refuse him, daring her to try and make her escape. But Granger’s eyes met his, challenging him similarly with just one hardened, fuck-me-eyes, expression.

Draco leant down, his lips returning to Granger’s, a sense of belonging in the moment as they fused together, melting in the heat of their passion. The way their lips moved together was fierce, it was brutal, rapturously agonising.

Without breaking contact from Granger, Draco tore his robe from halfway down his shoulders, discarded it on the floor beside them, his hands moving to hold either side of Granger’s bushy head. Her moans were like music to his ears, his blood on fire as he lowered the weight of his body to hers. He heard her whimper as his achingly hard cock pressed against her again, delighting in her heat.

This was too much. Too much and not enough. 

Draco’s cock was so hard it was almost painful.

Shaking hands reached up to that burgundy and golden tie, that self-righteous noose around Granger’s neck, and part of him still wanted to strangle her with it. Because he hated her still, would always hate her but instead his short-fusing brain was demanding that he remove it from her neck. Get the tie off, her blouse open and reveal the softness of her skin beneath.

As Draco removed Granger’s tie, his head buried in her neck, he hissed as her nails dug into his back, impeded by the dampened fabric of his shirt. He pulled back from her neck, just quick enough to remove the sodden shirt from his body, revealing perfect porcelain, feeling the slight chill in the air on his naked skin before he returned his attentions to Granger again.

Draco’s fingers trembled as he reached for the buttons on Granger’s blouse. Merlin knew why he was shaking, his body quaking like it was the first time Draco had ever touched a woman. He tried to fumble with the buttons for a second or two before frustration got the better of him and with one swift movement, he pulled at it, buttons skidding across the floor as Granger emitted a gasp of surprise.

The warnings in his head expected Granger to fight him as Draco tore open her blouse, bearing her skin to him. A white lace bra shone up at him, dazzled him for a second. He was captivated by her heaving chest, her breasts swelling within their confines as she tried to catch her breath. He kept his eyes from the scars on the flat of her stomach, the ones that made the sickness rise within. Instead of fighting him, her eyes met his. Wide, staring, a flicker of fear, of insecurity; as though daring him to criticise. Her eyes shone and betrayed her self-consciousness… and holy fuck did they look dark.

_You should be sneering at her, smirking at her, insulting her… not looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. _

But that inner Slytherin voice of his was drowned out and that insane part of him couldn’t help but stare.

Draco took in Granger’s crazed, tousled hair. Travelled over her flushed and blushing face. How her chest was rising and falling so heavily, breasts heaving in the constraints of the bra, the tension in the air so heavy that he thought he might choke on it. She quite simply looked… alive.

Hermione Granger looked like some wild thing, lying there beneath him, silken curls splayed against the arm of the sofa. Her cheeks were pink, and he could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her honeyed eyes gazed up at him, her ripened, swollen lips parted, her skin alight. Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more radiant.

Granger closed the distance this time, something desperate in her eyes as her hand reached behind his neck and pulled his head down to meet hers. Draco lost himself again in that sweetened, sinful indulgence. That frenzied, scorching kiss. His hands moved to her waist, sliding up her soft and naked skin, thumbs stroking beneath the cups of her bra. His head moved from her lips again, buried himself in the valley between her breasts, licking, tasting her skin. One hand reached down, fingers sliding along the expanse of the inside of her leg, his other hand moving frantically to cup one of her breasts.

Draco was aware that Granger was moving again, felt her body writhe against his touches, could hear her panting breath beneath him. This is where she belonged. This was what he wanted. What he’d _always_ wanted. He’d proven, proven that all Mudbloods were whores, including even her. That prudish, prideful Head Girl was just the same as all the rest. Just as obliging. She’d just needed a little coaxing, and now he was close. So close to that prized and precious pussy of the Princess of Gryffindor. The forbidden, for so many reasons… And now she was lying there beneath him.

In all the fucked-up fantasies Draco had ever had of Granger- not that he’d ever let himself admit he’d had any- nothing had ever felt as profound and powerful as this. This was something _more._

_More and not enough. _

The hand that was groping at Granger’s breast moved to his belt where Draco undid it with the clinking sound of metal, his lips still buried in her heaving chest. His tongue soaking the fabric of her bra, feeling the nipple beneath it peaking as he undid the button on his trousers. The trembling fingers of his other hand had reached just beneath the hem of Granger’s skirt now, his fingertips stroking along that creamy soft, unexposed skin, as she wriggled beneath him.

_Look at the submission… look how far she’s letting you go. _

Draco could taste the sweat on Granger’s skin as he traced his tongue along the swell of her breast, heard himself groan as his fingers stroked higher along her leg. This was it. She was the forbidden and she was submitting. She was letting him…

Suddenly Draco stilled.

Draco slowly lifted his head, looked up into the deadly eyes of the head girl beneath him. Hermione fucking Granger… had the point of a wand pressed against his crotch.

For a moment neither of them made a sound. Granger’s eyes were murderous as she held Draco at wand point. As she pressed the wooden point of the wand against him, he tried to remain as still as he could as the sounds of rough and harried panting resounded in the tense air around them. Tried to make sense of everything as his blood began to return to his head.

Granger had her wand. Must have got it from his robes whilst he was distracted, Draco realised. The sodden bundle of black fabric lay just beside the sofa they lay upon, within easy reach of her arm. He wanted to clap a hand to his forehead as he realised that she’d been pulling suspiciously at his robe before he had pushed her onto the sofa. Realised that her eyes had betrayed her concern at getting caught and not the insecurity and self-consciousness he had assumed. The little chit had reached her hand into his robes the moment he was distracted with all her bare skin…

Draco couldn’t help that his eyes were still entranced by the swelling of Granger’s heaving chest. It was with some sickening satisfaction that he noticed he’d left marks upon her neck and chest, before Granger hurriedly pulled her blouse closed with her other hand. The outrage in her expression, the way she looked at him… it was nauseating.

A mix of disgust, anger and despondent disappointment shone from Granger’s eyes.

“You…” Granger breathed ominously, and Draco felt the point of her wand press against him harder yet.

“Calm down Granger…” Draco began quietly, his hands up in surrender now as fear for the wellbeing of his swollen appendage overwhelmed him.

“Calm down?” Granger exclaimed, clutching her blouse tightly with her free hand. “_Calm down?” _The sound of disbelief rang in her taught voice but was accompanied by so much more. “Are you seriously telling me to _calm down_ after what you just did?”

“Let’s not act like you didn’t take a part in it, Granger.” Draco frowned as he spoke quietly, his eyes moving to look at her wand.

“How else was I going to get away from you? I was wandless and you had me pinned against the wall Malfoy!” Granger shouted at him; her wand ever-present on his nether region. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex the Malfoy crown jewels off you right now?”

Draco felt the anger and alarm rising in him once again, now that the lust and the fear were subsiding a little.

“Because you’re the one that told me to do it Granger. You’re the one that stood there and hissed all those marvellously nasty things and then told me to hurt you right back. And it did, didn’t it? It hurt to be a Mudblood getting kissed by a fucking death eater.” Draco spat back at her.

Draco watched the flicker of horror cross Granger’s eyes but hated more that she was looking at him as though he’d just killed her fucking cat. Not that he hadn’t considered it.

“F-fuck you Malfoy.” Granger said, her eyes welling with unshed tears as she lay beneath him, glaring up at him like she could see right through him and into his soul. “Now back up slowly and get the hell off of me.”

As Draco moved, he noted that Granger kept her wand aimed at his crotch. His eyes traced her smooth and shapely legs as she scrambled as best as she could to move away from him. When she placed her feet on the floor and got to her feet, he noticed how shaky they were, couldn’t hide the expression of derision on his face as she bent and pulled his wand from his fallen robe.

Once Granger had straightened, her eyes fell on Draco’s forearm, the one that had the white and reddened scratches across a pitch-black tattoo. He stared back at her then, the sickness rising within him, a lump in his throat at the look in her eyes.

“You crossed the line tonight Malfoy.” Granger stated plainly sparking Draco’s ire again once she’d torn her eyes from the Dark Mark he had tried to rid himself of. “In fact, you- you _pole-vaulted_ across it!” Granger exclaimed, fixing her eyes on his again as she spoke quieter. “I have no choice but to report you for this… You’re done.”

Granger’s voice had a broken finality to it. There was something too much like angry regret in her voice, too much like disappointment. The sound of it made it hard for Draco to swallow and all the difficultly did was stoke the flames of bitter resentment.

How Draco hated her. Hated Granger for being the very reason his family and reputation lay in ruins. He’d already hit rock bottom; Salazar help him, he wasn’t about to let her drag him down further. But if he was going down, he was damn well taking her with him.

“Don’t you forget that you leapt over that line with me Granger.” Draco said darkly, baneful eyes narrowing at hers.

“I-I had to get my wand back.” Granger replied, trying to bolster herself with false reassurance as she tore her eyes from his and looked away from him. She was as readable as the ruddiness of her cheeks, that sanctimonious tone slipping quietly from her voice.

Draco’s eyes travelled down to Granger’s wand, which was still aimed too accurately for his liking. His trousers were still unbuttoned, his belt still unbuckled, and his damp shirt and robe lay discarded on the floor. He didn’t move to cover himself, instead he’d let his bare skin be a slap-in-the-face reminder of the monumental fuck up they’d both just embarked on.

“I believe it was your hand tugging at my hair Granger…” Draco snarled, her eyes moving to meet his as he spoke. “Your dirty tongue tasting my skin, was it not?” He pointed out contemptuously, letting out a disgusted huff of sinister amusement. “You can’t forget to tell McGonagall all about how you pulled me in close, how you writhed beneath me… or how you _moaned_ out at my touch.”

Granger’s cheeks bloomed with a dark pink flush that spread across her creamy white skin. Draco watched pointedly as he recanted her actions from just moments before, shame splashing across her face as horrified mortification set in.

_That’s right Granger. I heard every note._

Draco wasn’t going to let her do this. Granger didn’t get to play the chaste, virginal princess when she’d been moaning and moving into his touch. Didn’t that expression on her face just confirm it? No matter what lies she told herself… she’d revelled in his touch.

Somewhere beneath the fury, irritation itched at Draco’s skin, because he should have expected this, the moment Granger kissed him back. He should have listened to all those instinctive warnings going off inside his head and if he wasn’t so distracted by the way her wand still pointed at his crotch, he might have even been impressed at her cunning.

“How perfectly Slytherin of you Granger.” Draco sneered back at her, watching her shift uncomfortably as his words hit her.

Draco wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Why he felt like someone had thrown a heavy curse at his gut. He didn’t know why he felt the painful sting of betrayal when he looked at the dishevelled girl in front of him. All he knew was that she was the cause for everything he was feeling. She always had been. He felt the need to hurt her all over again.

“Don’t forget to McGonagall how you kissed me back.” Draco added, meeting Granger’s eyes with a dark look of his own. “So do go on. Toddle off to Potty and Weasel. Tell your idiot boyfriends how the big, bad death eater pressed you up against the wall. How he tasted you… but don’t you dare leave out how you tasted me right back.”<strike></strike>

Draco’s upper lip was curled up in a mix of vehement disgust and anger as he hissed his remark at Granger.

“Shut up Malfoy.” Granger’s breathy voice warned him, reminding him of how she’d sounded panting beneath him. “Just shut up.”

Draco could read the panic in her eyes now, the realisation blooming on her skin as she considered his words.

“Oh, I don’t think so Granger. After all, you had your chance to say all those rotten, wicked things to me. Did you really think that you’d just get to the play innocent? Did you really think I’d go down quietly, without taking you with me?”

Granger straightened her back, an obvious attempt at pulling herself together.

“You wouldn’t.” Granger said confidently, eyeing him steadily again, her wand still pointed at his crotch, his own wand in the hand that held the fabric of her blouse shut.

“And what makes you think that?” Draco asked, moving to get to his feet now despite Granger’s wand being levelled at his cock.

“Because I’m a _Mudblood_, as you like to remind me. You wouldn’t want to sully your reputation by admitting that you’d kissed me.” Granger tried to sound confident, to sound strong but as he got to his feet, she took a step back, a flash of fear in her eyes.

_Good._

“Oh Granger, I think you and your little twatty boyfriends have already seen to the complete decimation of my family name and reputation, don’t you think? Do you really think that I have anything left to lose?”

A sinister smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as Draco glared at her. Granger’s eyes flashed with surprise for a second, before returning to starring daggers. Perhaps because he’d spoken so honestly, about something so brutally painful for him. But this could be the end. If she told the headmistress, he was gone. The only thing that could possibly restore his reputation was his position of Head Boy. If he lost this, he lost everything. So, fuck it. He’d throw caution to the wind.

“That’s bullshit Malfoy. I didn’t destroy anything. You did that yourself.” Granger argued, her eyes hot and glowering at him once more.

“Is it really Granger?” Draco growled darkly. “Do you really believe that you’ve had no part to play in it? You and those fucking idiots you can’t help but hang all over? I’m disappointed Granger. You’re supposed to be the brightest witch of our generation after all. Isn’t that what the newspapers keep saying?”

Granger tightened her grip on her blouse, scowling at him as the air around them fizzed with unbridled tension.  
  
“Stop it.” Granger breathed again. “Stop blaming me for your catastrophic mistakes. As I said, you followed along with _daddy’s_ plans. You joined the ranks of, insane bigoted zealots. You stood alongside psychotic torturers and murderers.” She spat. “_You_ don’t get to act like a victim.”

“Not a victim? You think that’s what I’m trying to be?” Draco scoffed. His teeth ground together in his fury; hands balled into fists now. Granger seemed to sense the danger, taking another step away from him.

“Y-You’re not.” Granger repeated reaffirming.

“You think that it was easy? Living with him? Living with them?” Draco growled, the knot inside his throat making his voice sound taught. “You think my father was happy each time he heard that the Dark Lord’s plans were thwarted by three insipid children? How three eleven-year olds prevented his return in our first year? Or we could talk about how many times my father belted me one because my grades were lower than a filthy bloody Mudblood’s.”

Draco hadn’t meant to say it, but now didn’t know how to stop. The anger had bubbled up and over and like he was grieving that something inside him that had finally died, he was finding it hard to speak through the lump in his throat. He was snarling at Granger now, not even thinking about the words he was hurling at her. Had barely processed the widening of her eyes as he mentioned his father’s actions.

“Oh, it gets better Granger. Can you imagine how disappointed he was to hear that I wasn’t the heir of Slytherin? How I _hadn’t_ sent a basilisk out to kill you? Or the beating I got when he heard the rumour about you punching me in the face?”

Granger was stunned, frozen in place, her lips parted in horror as she listened to Draco spilling words from his lips that were threatening to drown him.

“You think it went well for me after he got wind of Moody transfiguring me into a fucking ferret? Trust me, the bruises lasted a while that time. All because it was a dark smear on the Malfoy name. The Malfoy name which demands respect and loyalty.” Draco recited his father’s words.

“Or what about when Harry-refuse to fucking die-Potter escaped the Dark Lord in our fourth year? What about when _he_ finally returned and took up accommodation in my home? How he would hold me under the Cruciatus curse to suit his whim. How he would threaten to kill my mother if I didn’t do as he demanded.”

Draco was breathing heavily again, his voice too loud in the silence surrounding them, his words hanging on the air around them, stifling them. Granger was staring. Staring with wide brown eyes that he felt he might tumble into. Into that dark abyss.

“See, there’s a common denominator here Granger. You think that you had nothing to do with the decimation? The carnage? You think that you, Potty and Weasel had no part in the downfall of my family, when you’re the very fucking reason for it. Since our very first year here Potter went sauntering around, getting all the fucking glory. And there you were, just Potter’s little Mudblood, clinging to him and that ginger twat like your life depended on it. And it did, didn’t it Granger? Because no one could bloody stand you. You with your rules and all your stupid frizzy hair.”

“Even now you flit around this school like you fucking own the place and you’re right; I can’t stand it! As for Potter and that ginger tosser, they parade you around like you’re a fucking mascot. Pure and Perfect Head-girl Granger, when you’re anything but. You’re poison! There’s nothing _pure_ about you. And don’t think that I’ve not noticed how Potter has cast you aside, walking around with a face like a smacked ass, arm in arm with mini-weasel while the rest of the wizarding world bows down to him.”

Draco gulped for air. Felt like he was going under, his throat raw from all the words he was choking on.

“As for the ginger tosser, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you have one intelligent conversation with him. You think I don’t see the disdain on your face every time he opens his mouth and something stupid falls out? Or when he talks about Quidditch, a sport that we all know you _love_ to hear about.” He added sarcastically. “You think I don’t see you. But I see you, I see you with perfect fucking clarity.”

Draco sneered through bared teeth, taking in the frozen figure of Granger as she stared back at him, lips parted, shock plastered across that stupid smooth skin.

“You all saw to the destruction of my family. My father’s downfall, the annihilation of our status and repute. So yeah, I blame _you_, Granger. There aren’t enough words to describe how much that I _despise _you and now you’re really trying to tell me that poor, sweet, innocent Granger had no part of it?”

Silence swallowed them.

Ate them up and spat them out.

And that stupid stare on Granger’s face was making Draco regret the words he’d spewed at her.

Astounded. Horrified… still mad as hell. Suddenly Granger chocolate eyes were far too bright. Too much for Draco to be in the presence of.

“So, go ahead Granger. Tell McGonagall. Have her expel me. It’ll be just be one more thing you’ve taken from me and what a victory that will be for you. I bet you and the tossers even throw a party.”

Granger stood in stunned silence as several constricting moments stretched between them, threatening to snap.

“If I report you…” Granger spoke finally, voice sounding small after Draco’s loud and angry tirade. “It wouldn’t be because I want to ruin you Malfoy. You’ve done that enough yourself.”

That something dead and rotten in the pit of Draco’s stomach was expressing a painful, final death rattle. The way that Granger was looking at him, like he was a lost cause. Like he could never clamber out of the darkened pit he’d fallen into. He refused to acknowledge the hurt her eyes were causing him.

“Fine.” Draco finally snarled. Because spitting angry words at Granger was better than dwelling on the pain her words were causing him. “Tell McGonagall then. I don’t mind being the cause of your damnation. It’s almost poetic isn’t it? So, tell them how I kissed you, or should I tell them for you? How you kissed me back, let me strip you bare. Let me trace my tongue across your skin, reaching up beneath your skirt…”

“No one would believe you.” Granger’s words sounded empty, like she was trying to convince herself and failing.

“They don’t have to. The rumours will be enough.” Draco assured her derisively. “Merlin, how I hope I’m there to see the look on Potter’s face. To see the disappointment, the devastation… the _betrayal_. I’ll bloody revel in it.”

Granger’s eyes exposed her. Revealed the doubt. So, Draco kept on twisting.

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive you? For pushing your body up against mine, so close that you could feel my hardened cock…”

“I was trying to get my wand! I was wandless and you were hurting me!”

Granger cut him off again, sounding desperate.

“Do you think that will matter? Do you think they’ll care once I tell them how close I got?” Draco spread his arms wide to gesture at his naked chest and un-buttoned trousers.

Doubt.

Draco saw it swimming there in Granger’s eyes along with the unshed tears. His eyes stared at Granger’s bottom lip as she troubled it with her teeth.

“I’ll look forward to the bloodbath...” Draco said, daring to take a couple of steps forward.  
  
“Don’t move Malfoy!” Granger warned loudly, tightening her grip on her wand.

“…when I tell them how I pushed you down, tore your blouse…” Draco continued.  
  
“Stop it!” Granger cried out angrily.  
  
“I wonder how Emilie will feel, after everything?” Draco smirked cruelly at Granger. The final nail in the coffin. And Merlin, did he drive that nail deep.

“You utter fucking bastard, Malfoy!” Granger finally wailed, her voice breaking in a sob. “How? How can you do this? How can you live like this, tearing people’s lives apart like they mean nothing?”

“I’m just returning the favour.” Draco taunted with a sneer.

Empty, heavy silence filled the room for but a moment, Draco observing Granger’s deliberation.

“So, shall we be going?” Draco prompted Granger; his head tilted down as he looked at her with hooded eyes. “I’m sure McGonagall will still be in her office. I wonder how Emilie will feel once the rumour gets out… I wonder if she’ll hate you for it…” He continued, taking another step towards her, another twist of the knife.

“Stay right there Malfoy!” Granger shrieked, taking another startled step backwards. “I swear if you take one more step…”

“Do you think she’ll mind?” Draco continued, driving the words deeply inside her, screwing them tightly beneath Granger’s skin. “I guess she’ll get called a _slut_ just like you…” Draco dared to take another step towards her, a dark smile stretching across his lips at the cruelty.

Draco would swear that he saw Granger’s eyes widen imperceptibly before a bright red light flashed between them.

Pain.

Searing, burning pain erupted in Draco’s chest before he was forced backwards off his feet with incredible force. Blood raced, adrenaline coursing as a thundering noise filled his ears. Draco’s eyes shut tightly as his back slammed into something incredibly solid. His head smacked back with an almighty crack, the agony reminding him of so many nights back home.

When Draco opened his eyes again, his vision was blurred and dark. His back ached from the impact with the wall, felt like his bones had shattered from it. An image of smashed and broken bone flashing through his mind. A blazing, fiery pain burned in his chest from where the curse had made contact. His nostrils filled with the scent of burning flesh.

As Draco tried to blink the blackened perimeters of his vision away, he made out the image of a fuzzy figure where Granger had last been standing, black spots impeding on his view. Draco coughed a little, his chest wheezing as he looked down at the blistering wound on his chest. He discerned the gaping hole from the point of impact and the blackened edges of scorched and singed, previously white marble skin.

The fucking bitch had hexed him.

Draco lifted his head, fixed Granger with an expression he hoped communicated to that she’d signed her death warrant, her signature ironically written in his own blood. But he noticed that Granger was just staring, open-mouthed at him, not really taking his warning in. Brown eyes stared in horror, taking in everything and nothing, wider than he’d ever seen them.

Tears.

Draco could make out the glistening wet tracks on Granger’s cheeks as he attempted to clamber to his feet and failed. His aching body laboured before he fell, muscles screaming before he slumped down upon the cold, grey flagstones once more.

_Let the bitch cry. Fuck her tears._

Draco hoped that Granger fucking drowned on them.

Pressing a hand to the bleeding hole in his chest Draco watched through narrowed eyes as Granger raised a shaking hand to cover her mouth, chocolate brown eyes still glued to him… glued on his crimson pristine blood as it spilled across his porcelain fingers.

And then suddenly Granger ran.

Like a doe that had suddenly bolted and taken flight, Granger’s body sprang, long and slender legs carrying her. With Draco’s wand still clutched tightly in her hand, curls flying and swirling about her as she turned; she fled from the room. Ran like the devil himself was chasing her and perhaps she believed he would. Perhaps she feared his retribution.

And she should.

Draco watched as Granger ran from the room, tearing up the spiral staircase to the dorms that lay beyond it. Even with his head pounding, he heard the resounding slam of the Head Girl’s bedroom door. Felt the slight quake of the wall reverberating through his back at the force of it.

Draco looked down at the scarlet fluid dripping from his fingers and down his chest. Saw the potent reminder that anything but purity ran through his veins. And with the darkened edges of his vision, the scarlet looked brown in places, like it was contaminated. Like it was mud.

Draco was going to kill her.

  
  



	8. Aftermath from the Mudblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I would like to make it clear that although Malfoy did assault Hermione, he was not going to rape her. She started kissing back and he took that as consent. I am trying to portray two very complicated character's and what *their* thought processes might be. I am not trying to suggest that either one is in the right or in the wrong. I am able to compartmentalise that this is all fiction and don't want my interpretation of the character's thoughts and reasonings to be misconstrued as my own. I think I must have gone too heavy with the previous chapter but I wanted to show Malfoy's devolution and unravelling. I wanted to then explore the process of building things back up from nothing. However, if this is upsetting people and no one is enjoying the fic then I will ultimately hang my hat up and discontinue. My goal is at times, to make you uncomfortable. That doesn't mean that I stand by the action that led to that feeling.

[ ](https://imgur.com/epNxiGo)

**A/N:** Hey all. Thank you so much for the great reviews and your support. I’ve been very unwell lately and travel to London next week to see if I’ll be getting the surgery that I need, so I’m sorry that my updates have been slow. Hopefully I can get sorted so that they can be more regular. I hate disappointing you all. I know that the last chapter was heavy so sorry if it was a bit too much. I hope I didn’t let you all down with it. I look forward to hearing from you soon. x As always I'll post about updates on Tumblr.

My tumblr: <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777>  
My email: Gryffindorgirl2010@hotmail.co.uk

Songs

Zombie- Damned Anthem  
Forest Fires- Lauren Aquilina  
Dreamcatcher- Night Argent

** Aftermath from the Mudblood **

Some time ago Hermione had slammed her bedroom door and retreated to the safety of her dormitory. How long ago she really couldn’t say. She had locked and warded her bedroom door a multitude of times before she sank down onto her bed, staring in open-mouthed horror at nothing. Nothing.

What had she done?

What had _he_ done?

Hermione stared into nothingness as she recanted the events that had found her fleeing and hiding in that room. The slamming of her body into the wall, Malfoy hissing in her ear. Malfoy… Malfoy… Malfoy…

Because something in Hermione’s head just couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t process Malfoy’s lips on hers. That brutal, seething, venomous kiss. The hunger in his eyes. The need…

No. There was no understanding this. There was no studying it like an equation a professor might have posed at her. There was no breaking it down and working it out. Only, that’s exactly what Hermione had been doing, since forever ago when she’d barricaded herself inside that room with every warding spell she knew.

The way that Malfoy had kissed her, it had Hermione completely off kilter. Utterly lost in complete consternation. The way he had man-handled her, almost the moment she’d stepped into the room. For several seconds during the whole encounter she had truly believed that he was going to kill her. Could see the fury in his eyes. But then… then he’d kissed her… and her mind had split with shock, a crack that had cleaved her rationality in two.

But it wasn’t just a kiss. That could never just be a kiss.

And what came next, it was so much worse. It was Hermione’s hand in Malfoy’s hair and kissing him back because she’d tried to pull away, she had. She’d fought to push her way out from under him, pressed up against that cold, stone wall. But he’d held her firmly in his grip, her hair in his hand, strands pulling free from her scalp as she tried to pull away. She had glared at him, righteous fury hitting him dead on, his eyes open and staring back, but he hadn’t stopped… he hadn’t stopped.

And so, she’d had to. It was the only thing that Hermione could think of in that sanity consuming moment.

_Kiss him back, distract him, get your wand. _

So, Hermione had. Merlin help her, she’d kissed Malfoy back. And it wasn’t just a simple kiss. No. It was fierce, so fucking brutal that it was almost violent, because heaven help her, if she had to kiss him, she was going to reciprocate the hatred. The malice and the rage. She’d had no choice.

_Distract him and find your wand._

Only Hermione hadn’t just distracted him. Malfoy had distracted her too. She’d been unwittingly swallowed up by the heat of his body, the feel of it. His toned, firm chest pressing against her. It had been so different to those chaste and innocent kisses with Victor, less sloppy than with McLaggen. Too staggeringly different to her kisses with Ron before their relationship had petered out entirely, returning to the same friendship they’d always had since childhood.

No. Malfoy’s kiss was suffocating. Purposeful and consuming. Predatory. Anything but innocent. He’d been too close; the scent of rain on his skin, beneath the faint scent of cologne and something musky, male and belonging only to him. Hermione had been all too aware of his body, unyielding and warm as he pressed himself against her.

Then Malfoy’s hips had moved against Hermione’s and-- Please Merlin, help her-- but she couldn’t deny it, she had let a whimpering moan slip from her lips. She had felt his pelvis pressed against her hips and felt the unmistakable hardness that caused her stomach to flip.

The entire encounter was unfathomable to Hermione. Not in the least because she didn’t want to admit that she could ever, possibly have felt anything for Malfoy other than pure, unadulterated revulsion. And because he had been _hard_ for her! Draco-_Pureblood_-Malfoy had been hard for her. For _her!_ But he hated her, really, truly hated her if his little tirade was anything to go by. So why? Why had he kissed her? Hard and viciously at first, before letting his lips move from her mouth to her neck? She brought her hand up to the place on her neck, where the skin still tingled. Why? Why had it felt… good?

_It was just a physiological, biological response. It didn’t mean anything. You still hate him. You’ve always hated him. He still disgusts you-- gets deep inside and twists and twists until you’re rung out completely by his presence. Rung dry and throbbing with that bitter resentment. _

Since the first day of term, since Hermione had been placed in that cursed new common room, the one she’d been working towards since she was eleven, she’d felt like that. Felt worn through, just from sharing that room with Malfoy. Just from exchanging the few stilted words needed to get their work done as Head Boy and Girl. Head Girl. It was a position that Hermione wore proudly, her pin on her chest with pride. But it wasn’t as shiny as she once remembered it looking.

Hermione had tolerated Malfoy. Had listened to Professor McGonagall’s words about healing. About returning house unity. She had swallowed down all the arguments that rose inside her throat, threatened to bubble up and out of her mouth, tasting sour. She’d listened to Ron’s indignant, angry rants. Felt his pain as he grieved the loss of his brother, blaming Malfoy and his ilk. And he should. He _should_ blame them.

Then there was Harry. Harry who had aged far beyond his years, who had endured far more trauma than anyone could know. Harry who carried it all on his shoulders, the guilt, the pain and the wishing for things to be different, for him to not be the reason that so many people had lost their lives. Malfoy had spoken of glory, like that could ever repair the damage.

Because they were all damaged. All of them.

Hermione had returned to Hogwarts when their year was offered the chance to complete their seventh year. A lot of people had refused to go back once it was to be run by Death eaters. Others had attended but were mistreated and learnt very little or were taught the wrong things by the Carrows. It was a chance to reset. It was a chance for everyone who felt lost or misplaced to find themselves once more.

Hermione had tried exactly that. She had reverted to the know-it-all, studious student she had always been, because playing the part of her old self was easier for her and everyone around her, than dealing with the hell she’d been through. She found that it put the boys more at ease around her. It was something familiar. Something easy. She’d been through so many hardships with them, this really was the very least she could do. Give them that sense of familiarity, of reliability. She’d fallen back onto what she’d always known and always been to cope with the fears that still filled her head, with the nightmares that still haunted her.

Some days Hermione found herself wishing at times that she couldn’t feel a thing. Not the pain, not the fear and not the grief. Because everyone had lost someone._ Everyone_.

But Draco Malfoy had been the catalyst that had led to all that hurt, all that loss. That pin removed from the grenade… and Hermione had just kissed him back.

_Malfoy forced you. You did what you had to do to escape._

Of course, Hermione knew, deep down in her bones that Malfoy had been the unscrupulous bastard of the piece. But her actions, they left her feeling numb. Numb beneath the horror, disgust and disbelief. Because she refused to admit, that for a moment that she had lost herself in him. The feel of his lips, the desperation. The sensation of his fingers brushing across her skin, down her sides and up her thigh. She felt sick. It shouldn’t have felt _good._ There was something seriously wrong with her.

Hermione had been holding onto the vain hope that Professor Dumbledore had once been right. That somewhere, beneath the bigotry and darkness that encapsulated Draco Malfoy, that he had something redeemable about him. She remembered lying, sprawled on the floor of his parent’s house, his aunt carving into her flesh a wound that would never fully heal. She remembered looking up at Malfoy, as his aunt had tortured and maimed her. She’d been crying, screaming and there had been something close to an apology staring out from his wide and horrified eyes. And she’d been screaming so loudly inside her own head—only in her head—but _save me! Please Malfoy! Malfoy! Make it stop make it stop make it stop!_

Because the pain Malfoy’s aunt was inflicting had been blinding and that horror in his eyes, the way Hermione had watched through blurry, water-filled eyes, saw him almost take half a step forward towards her before his father’s hand had rested on his shoulders. Watched his expression turn unreadable and knew. Knew resolutely that Malfoy wasn’t going to rescue her. In that moment she’d felt the largest swell of hatred for him she’d ever felt. Because Malfoy had always been an intolerable bully and a bastard, but she had always doubted, could never really believe, that he was a monster. One of them. Capable of the terrible things that they did, even after Professor Dumbledore’s death.

Even after Malfoy had watched Hermione get tortured, she’d clung to the memory of him in the room of requirement, before it had been set aflame. How he’d lowered his wand… But she’d been wrong. Stupidly, naively, _pitifully_ wrong.

Hermione had wanted to give Malfoy that chance. That chance for redemption She’d foolishly and ignorantly given him far too many. Too many chances for salvation and too many opportunities for him to toy with her. To assault her.

_That’s what this was._ Hermione reaffirmed. _Assault._

Then what the hell could Hermione call the vicious hex she’d hurled at him?

What had struck Hermione, deeper than that bruising kiss, was that fury Malfoy had summoned from inside her at the end. After those wondrously-- heart spilled on the floor before her--words he’d spewed at her. After the insults and insinuations. After taking one more step towards her.

Hermione had hexed Malfoy, when he had been unarmed.

The sickening thought struck something deep inside herself. Hermione couldn’t help but feel that Malfoy had managed to pollute her very soul with his violent wickedness. He’d succeeded in corrupting her. In getting her to cast a spell she’d sworn to herself once the war had ended, that she’d never use again. Whatever justification she had for reporting the bastard to the Headmistress was gone, with that simple flick of her wand and the burning hole in his body. If she went to Professor McGonagall now, told her what had occurred, not only was Malfoy right about the rumours that would spread, but he’d also made it impossible for her hide her own actions. He would tell of what she’d done. How she’d raised her wand to him and cursed him out of anger.

Tears.

They’d been flowing down Hermione’s face since the moment she’d realised what she’d done. Since the moment she saw Malfoy, crumpled on the floor with a smoking, large hole in his chest and blood leaking through his fingers. What had she done?

_What Malfoy deserved._

That dark inner voice replied to Hermione’s unspoken question with malice. Something that Hermione tried to keep at bay, normally successfully, to allow for more intelligent solutions rather than acting brashly in anger. But finally, she had succumbed to Malfoy’s taunting words and the way that he was creeping closer to her. She wasn’t about to let him violate her again. _Ever._

So, Hermione had hexed the bastard. So what? He’d deserved it, and so much more. Maybe Professor McGonagall would understand? Maybe. But no matter how many times she played it through in her mind, there was no way that she’d keep her position as Head Girl, and that was too important to her to lose. It was a vital part of the normality she’d tried to regain for herself. It had been her dream since she had first started at Hogwarts. It reminded her of what she’d been before the war, that part of her she had been so desperately clinging to and trying to recreate. That part of her she’d lost, and Merlin, she didn’t want to lose anything else because of bloody Draco Malfoy. No. So she’d have to remain silent about his misdeeds. She could do that couldn’t she? After all, she had his wand.

Hermione looked down at the ten-inch-long piece of hawthorn that was oh-so familiar to her after Harry had spent half of the previous year using it. Harry had grudgingly returned Malfoy’s wand to him, getting the git to disarm him first in order to return his own wand’s allegiance to him.

Hermione was staring down at the wand. The one that had vanquished Voldemort. Such a simple piece of wood… but Malfoy had used it to disarm her the second she’d entered the room, making her wish to Merlin that Harry had never given it back.

Harry. What was he going to say when Hermione told him? She’d already heard his opinions on Malfoy. Heard how, if it wasn’t for Narcisa then Harry would be dead. How there had to be _some_ good left inside her son. However, Hermione could tell that Harry still had reservations, had still been watching Malfoy closely, much closer than she’d thought according to his outburst in the entrance hall that same evening.

_What about Ron? _

Oh, Merlin help her. Hermione had listened to Ron’s angry diatribes regarding Malfoy to the extent that she had learned to tune them out. He didn’t like that she had to share a common room with Malfoy. Didn’t like that she had to spend time in his presence, let alone sharing duties with him. Ron was well within his rights to hate the bastard. His grief was almost all-consuming and with the added complications of their brief affair together he was being as protective of her as ever. It had almost been annoying, like he didn’t believe that she could handle anything Malfoy threw at her…

How right he’d turned out to be.

And now Hermione was hiding, crying in her room because of Malfoy, and in her own way of _handling_ the situation, she had both kissed and hexed the bastard.

No. Hermione decided. She couldn’t tell them. Not Harry and not Ron. Because she knew what they would do. She could already see the anger, the violence, the punching bruises of flesh.

The betrayal.

No. Hermione couldn’t tell them. They’d kill Malfoy and part of her considered letting them for what the slimy prick had done to her. But after the multitude of warnings that McGonagall had given the four of them, there was no way it wouldn’t lead to carnage and ultimate expulsion. No. She couldn’t do that. Not to her undeserving boys.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was a completely different matter.  
  
Hermione looked up, finally seeing for the first time since entering her room. A stranger was staring back at her from the other side of the glass. The mirror reflected the devastation. Brown curls that were now in tangles. Wet, red eyes with salt-soaked cheeks. Merlin, her blouse was still hanging open, the buttons still lying scattered across the common room floor, along with the tattered shreds of her pride. Her open blouse revealed the reddened marks from Malfoy’s lips covering her chest and neck. Poison. She felt coated in his poison.

The reflection in the mirror didn’t feel like her at all, and Hermione stared back at it, lips parted. The closer she looked, the more she saw the imperfections. The tell-tale sign that she was different, unbelievably different than before the war. There were darkened rings lay beneath her brown eyes, eyes that had seen too much… a heart that had felt too much. Subconsciously, Hermione’s hand moved to her left forearm. To the scar that had never faded.

Mudblood. That was what Malfoy saw her as wasn’t it? He’d said it so many times to her that she had hoped she’d become numb to hearing it. But she was wrong. It still stung every time she heard it. It made her heart clench, made it hurt, because even after everything she’d fought for, Malfoy still believed that she was inferior to him, all because her parents were muggles.

As Hermione reflexively rubbed her arm, she recalled the marks she had seen on Malfoy’s. The pink and white scars that crisscrossed over that darkened mark. The one that boasted ownership over him by the evillest wizard of their time. A monster. A tattoo of a black skull and serpent that had now been marred but could never be removed. But how could she have forgotten that he’d been deserving of that mark in the first place?

Of course, she hadn’t missed the other scars that Malfoy bore. The jagged pink line that was emblazoned across his chest. When he had stood there at the end, with his arms outspread to make a point of how far she’d let things go, it had become burned into the back of her head. Harry made that scar, when they’d fought in the bathroom what felt like a lifetime ago. _Her_ Harry. She could still recollect the scathing, scolding and rebuttal she had given him on acting so brutally and brashly. She had never really considered that Malfoy would still bear those scars… and now _she_ had added another. How was she ever supposed to face herself again?

As though testing, Hermione glanced back up at the mirror. Her face looked worn and she felt hollow. A shell. She’d been unravelling, since the moment Malfoy’s lips had touched hers and only he had the ability to make her feel like that. The ability to steal her resolve, leaving her quaking in his path. Merlin, she was still shaking, her heart still hammering, almost as hard as it had when his lips had landed on hers. Her heart had beat so hard and so fast that she thought it was trying to force its way out of her chest. Out of its bone prison and into Malfoy’s very hands.

Hermione felt lost. She had to do something. She looked down at Malfoy’s wand again.

She had to do something…

~ ~ ~ ~

The fucking bitch had hexed him!

Draco was back in his room, grunting with pain as he tried to tend to the gaping wound that Granger had left on his chest. He held a white towel--quickly turning crimson-- to the injury, one he’d had to venture into the bathroom for. The bathroom was the only room that separated him and Granger. He’d stood in the conjoining bathroom and glared at the locked door that led to her room. Had to seriously stop himself from blasting it to pieces.

But of course, Draco had forgotten that Granger had his wand.

Draco had grabbed a couple of towels and left the room, returning to his own, all decked out in green. He sank down onto his four-poster bed and began to do what he could, with the potions and salves he had available to tend to the injury Granger had given him.

Draco almost couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe how bloody deceptive and dangerous Granger had been. He’d go as far as to call her actions reckless and Granger was never that. So, perhaps something had happened to her, like it had happened to him. Something sinking in beneath his skin and turning it inside out. Because he didn’t feel like him. Not at all.

_You kissed her._

The voice inside Draco’s head kept reminding him of the very thing he wanted very much to forget. That kiss. Why in holy hell had he thought that would be a good idea? In the moment he’d wanted to hurt her. Hurt Granger as much as she’d hurt him. Knew it had to involve killing a part of her, like she had done; killing that _something_ inside himself that was now very much deceased.

_The Mudblood kissed you back._

To say he’d been surprised when the prissy, stuck-up Head Girl had kissed him back, was an understatement of terrific magnitude. In fact, Draco wondered if anyone would ever be able to surprise him as much as she had ever again.

And fuck it felt good.

It felt _good_ to be kissing Potter’s Mudblood princess. To be kissing Hermione Granger. That was why Draco knew, knew he had to be losing his fucking mind, because holy shit that was _Granger._ Granger who you’ve known for days you shouldn’t even have been looking at. Considered stabbing out your eyes just to avoid the way they travelled to her, roamed up her legs and over her body. Salazar, the swell of her breasts, heaving- They were still emblazoned in his mind. Her skin, as soft as he’d imagined. No. Softer. Her hair, silky and riotous with his fingers gripping tightly to it. The way she moved beneath him.

And despite the searing, painful wound in his chest, Draco was acutely aware that he was getting hard again. Just on thoughts of _her. _

_Granger. _

Fuck. Draco was spiralling, choking on that lump in his throat that kept whispering her name. Because he knew who Granger was. _What_ she was and everything still sane inside him was reminding him that he shouldn’t want her. _Couldn’t_ want her. She was everything his father had ever warned him against. Kicked his head in just for losing to her with his grades. And like he was back there, back in the darkness of that night, Draco’s head was pounding again. That aching pulse of hitting marble floor and seeing stars. His father’s punishment.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

No. It had to be Granger. Her, contaminating Draco with the mud beneath her skin. It was her. Let it be her. Please let it be her. Because there was a small part of him, deep inside that was too insistent that this was all him. Had always been all him. Because he’d been obsessed with Potter and his Mudblood since day--bloody--one.

It had been easy back then. So much simpler. Because Draco could hurl insults and that’s all they meant. Just words meant to get under Potter and Granger’s skin. But somewhere along the way they stopped being just words, they stopped being about her looks. Because he’d changed, grown up a little, but so had she and it had no longer been easy to find something about her to comment on. Except her hair, Merlin, always her bushy, tousled hair. But a part of him—a part he chose to fervently ignore—had decided that actually, she’d grown into quite a remarkable woman.

Granger’s beauty wasn’t loud. It wasn’t so obvious to anyone that looked. But when you looked closer, beneath her frizzy hair and baggy robes and stupid red tie-- she was striking. She had a timeless beauty about her, something almost Edwardian. Fuck knows why Draco knew that, and fuck knows why he cared.

Now what?

Because Draco had been holding that towel to his chest, trying to ebb the flow of blood that coated his fingers. He could fix it, with only a flick of his wand, he’d become quite adept at healing spells after all. But that chit had his wand. Suddenly Draco felt defenceless. Exposed.

Was that how Granger had felt? After Draco had disarmed her and forced her up against that wall?

Draco knew he’d crossed lines. Pole-vaulted over them as Granger had said. He wouldn’t even be surprised if the stuck-up cow was on her way to McGonagall’s office right now.

_Except she can’t._

Granger couldn’t report him. Not without telling her favourite Professor how she’d hexed him, with a particularly powerful hex. Draco examined the bleeding wound on his chest again. He hadn’t even recognised the curse she’d blasted at him. That was interesting. That innocent Princess Granger had learnt something so dark and so dangerous. He guessed that he shouldn’t really be surprised. They’d been at war after all.

The war.

It had changed so much.

Draco had been caught in the middle of it. His father had made sure of that. Prideful Lucius Malfoy had been all too eager to offer up his home and his only son to the monster that still haunted Draco’s nightmares. Draco had found himself ensnared in the trap of his father’s making.

_Make us proud Draco. Uphold the family name. Bring us honour. Bring us glory. _

How Draco’s father ever thought that the Dark Lord would ever share his glory with them was beyond him. It was a fucking mystery he’d spent many sleepless nights wondering about. And why? Why had he shared all those secrets with Granger? Why had he let them bubble up inside of them until they were too hot not to spit out onto the floor in front of her.

_Granger. Granger. Fucking Granger. _

Whatever this was, this _need_ to force her up against the closest object and lick her skin, it had to stop. Draco had to clear his head. Stay away. Because Merlin knew he’d gone too far. He’d been fucking _drowning_ on her. Completely and utterly lost.

_But Granger has your wand._

Yeah. That was a little bit fucking problematic.

The irony wasn’t lost on Draco of course, that he was trying to heal and treat his wound in a very muggle sort of way. He had no idea how he was going to get his wand back. He didn’t see Granger relenting, not after everything he’d said and everything he’d done to her.

Draco sighed heavily, lying back on his bed, the back of his hand to his forehead. Why had he done those things? Why had he felt an unruly need to control her? Why did he_ still_ feel it? Because Granger had always been insufferable, but recently… recently she’d been all he could think about. She’d gotten so deep under his skin, so ever-presently _there_ inside his head.

Merlin, he could _still_ hear both Granger’s and Potter’s words buzzing around his head. Didn’t want to admit that anything they’d said was true. Didn’t want to think about any of it. Not about self-ruination, a fascination with the Mudblood or that look, the one that Granger had fixed him with. The one that read loud and clear that he was unredeemable. Unfixable. Unsavable.

“Fuck.”

Draco lowered his hand to cover his eyes. His insides felt raw. Chewed up, spat out raw. Like claws ripping at his flesh from the inside out, creating gouges in the porcelain skin. He’d wanted to do that to Granger, make her feel like he was feeling now. He’d never felt such righteous fury before, and he briefly questioned if this was what his kiss had felt like to her. Was that how it felt, to be a Mudblood, being kissed so hard that it was almost_ fucking_, by a death eater. Because how could she ever forget that? How could anyone?

Draco let out a quiet, darkened chuckle.

Wet trails leaked down the side of Draco’s face and into the Slytherin-green silk sheets beneath him. Then he let out another delirious chuckle. He was so fucked up. Even he could see that. Even he… even _she_… Granger. She’d been so lethally accurate about all of it. So accurate that he had to wonder how she had even noticed what with her eyes glued so avidly to the red-headed twat all the time-- and don’t forget Saint Potter of course. Merlin, how Draco _wished_ he could forget about him.

Was Draco’s sudden implosion that evident? He’d believed that he was playing his part well. Burying everything deep, just like his mother had always taught him. He’d ignored the threatening glares and dissonant whispers that followed him around wherever he went. Merlin, he wished he hadn’t had to return to that accursed school. Wished he hadn’t had to suck it all up and do it for the good of the Malfoy name. Because his father had tarred it, so darkly with thick and sticky pitch, that even Draco wasn’t sure that he could ever restore it. It would be impossible now for Draco to get any kind of job, particularly not one deserving of his station. Not that he even had that anymore. Head Boy. It all hinged on that position now, on Draco’s ability to make it through that last school year. On his ability to grasp and cling onto anything that could possibly return his reputation to him. But he wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that lay in tatters, but it was he could do, to cling to those shredded remnants and hope that somehow, _somehow,_ he could restore it all.

So, it had stung him. Hit Draco hard in the gut when Granger had fixed those eyes on him. Caramel brown that told him, screamed loud and clear that he didn’t deserve redemption. That it was impossible to save him. And why had she ever thought he could be? When all he’d ever done was give her reason to believe it. Still, it was beyond him as to why it mattered, that it was Gryffindor—bleeding heart—Granger that believed those things.

Because if pure and good Granger didn’t believe in his redemption how in the fuck could anyone else?

How could he?

~ ~ ~ ~

Granger was avoiding from him.

Not that Draco hadn’t wholly and fully expected that. What he hadn’t accounted for was how very fucking _empty_ that common room felt without Granger in it. Before, her presence had been nothing but an annoyance, a reminder, of so many things. It was only now that she was gone from it that he was realising how much her irritating existence in his vicinity had kept his darker thoughts at bay. With the loneliness of a consistently empty common room, he had nothing to distract him from all the things he tried not to think about. No frizzy hair, no long and slender legs and no stupid, fucking shorts. Without that sanctimonious light that always shone from her, the common room now felt empty… and cold.

Several days had passed since—what Draco was silently terming as— ‘the incident.’ Not that it could really be called that. ‘Monumental fuck-up’ was closer to the reality of the situation. A catastrophic mistake of colossal scale.

Draco hadn’t been surprised when he had left his room the next morning, to find that Granger had already gone. Hadn’t been surprised when he stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast and soon after she had exited. He shouldn’t have cared. Shouldn’t have given it a second thought. But for whatever Godforsaken reason it irked him.

Draco had found his eyes seeking Granger out, whenever he entered a room. At first, he had watched her for some sort of sign that she’d visited McGonagall and reported him for his actions the previous night. He had waited, tense and on tender hooks all day, preparing for his inevitable expulsion. He’d run through countless conversations with the headmistress all day. Run through all the things he’d say to Granger, the things he’d say _about_ her to everyone else.

But McGonagall didn’t approach Draco about it that day, or the day after. It appeared that Granger had kept her mouth shut. Hadn’t said a word. It was self-preservation he was sure. She didn’t want to have to explain the open wound on his chest. Even so, it surprised him. Interested him really, because Granger had always been all about what was right; a prim and proper know-it-all that liked to uphold school rules. So that she had decided _not_ to report him to the proper authorities held Draco’s curiosity. 

Draco was _drawn_ to her. Inexplicably. He shouldn’t have been, shouldn’t admit it, but he’d been staring at her in class. Watching. Knew that she could feel his eyes on her from the way her body tensed, from that slight flush that rose on the back of her neck. But she remained stalwart and kept her eyes stubbornly from any direction that might have included him.

Granger still had his wand.

Draco needed his wand back, but he had sworn to himself that he was going to stay away from her. Didn’t want to be anywhere near the bitch. If she wanted to ignore him then that was just fine with him. It meant he didn’t have to be around her stifling, stuffy, muddy presence. Perhaps he’d even begin to heal a little, recover from the poison she was spreading.

His Professors however, seemed to have other plans in mind. After all, Draco had to get his wand back somehow.

The first class the day after ‘the incident’ had been transfiguration. Draco had dreaded walking into the room, expecting to be marched straight out again by McGonagall. When she continued the lesson as planned, not paying any more attention to Draco than usual, the knot in his stomach began to uncoil. However, once the practical part of the lesson started, Draco found himself glancing bitterly in Granger’s direction at the front of the class.

“Mr Malfoy, do you intend on joining us for this exercise?” McGonagall’s Scottish accent rang out over the quiet chatter that filled the classroom. He caught it out of the corner of his eye, the way that Granger’s body had bristled. How she kept her eyes adamantly fixed on her partner, a crease on her furrowed brow.

“Well?” McGonagall had prompted him when he didn’t answer right away.

Draco turned his stony eyes from Granger to look up at the tight-lipped, older woman.

“I would Professor. But I appear to have misplaced my wand.” Draco had replied coolly, watching that pink flush climb higher on Granger’s neck.

Zabini had glanced behind him from the desk in front, dark eyes fixed on Draco’s. His eyes glanced at the scratch marks on Draco’s porcelain cheekbone, the ones that Granger’s nails had made. Zabini had that look about him. That knowing one. Like he could see more than Draco was willing to reveal.

“How in the hell did manage to lose your wand?” Pansy asked, voice shrill and irritating.

Almost a week had passed since ‘the incident’ with Granger and Draco was sat at the Slytherin table, trying to eat dinner. Pansy was sat to his right and driving him bloody nuts, fawning and flirting and just... just pissing him off entirely. His Professors had been on his arse about his wand all week and now he guessed it was her turn.

“As I said the first _ten_ _times_. I misplaced it.” Draco ground out as he tried to eat his food.

“Where did you have it last?” Pansy asked, causing Draco to let out a disgruntled sigh. Pansy was trying to be helpful, but Pansy being helpful was never anything short of annoying.

“If I knew that Pans then I’d still have the fucking thing, wouldn’t I?” Draco lied in exasperation. Seriously, why his parents had ever thought she would make for the ideal Pureblood wife was beyond him.

“No need to be grumpy.” Pansy pouted, running her finger down Draco’s tie, causing him to roll his eyes. The biggest turn-off about Pansy—other than how aggravating he found her—was how damned _eager_ she was. How she was simpering and pathetic and completely besotted with him.

“You don’t think that someone stole it do you?” Pansy continued.

“What?” Draco asked, distractedly as he tried to cut his food.

“Your _wand.”_ Pansy replied. “Honestly Dray, what has gotten into you?” She shook her head in disbelief, but Draco’s eyes had moved automatically to the Gryffindor table and the brown, frizzy mane of Granger, who’d taken to sitting with her back to him.

“I’m _fine_.” Draco bit back, unsure if he was saying it more to Pansy, or to himself.

Once more Draco felt a pair of familiar eyes on him from the seat to his left. He glanced up to see Blaise Zabini staring knowingly back at him before his dark and penetrating eyes glanced in Granger’s direction and then back down at his food.

Draco couldn’t give a shit what Zabini knew. What he _thought_ he knew, what he might have suspected, because when it came to it, he knew shit-all. Fucking nothing.

“So? Do you think someone could have taken it? Potter might have wanted it back?” Pansy continued, lowering her voice. Draco could feel the pulsing vein in his temple throb. Pansy was getting on his very last nerve.

“Why in the _hell_ would Potter want my wand back?” Draco asked incredulously, a little louder than he’d meant to, as he let his cutlery clatter noisily back onto his plate. Pansy seemed to realise that she’d done something wrong, that she’d pissed him off, because she was looking up at him with pleading eyes, her hand moving to caress his arm—which Draco jerkily shrugged away.

It was no wonder really, that Draco had always believed he had a way with women, that most of them were gold-digging whores. Pansy Parkinson was a prime example. She’d had her claws hooked into him since they were in third year. Since their parents had suggested the match. Draco half wondered why she hadn’t run away or avoided him like the rest of the simpering idiot women that used to flock to him. Why she was still placing all her bets on the return of his family’s fucking glory. Then again, with the money he still had, he guessed she didn’t need to.

It was with this thought in mind that Draco got to his feet, his chair scraping across the flagstone floor.

“Wait. Where are you going?” Pansy questioned him as Draco threw his napkin onto his plate and made to leave.

“Away from you.” Draco replied harshly, even though he saw Pansy flinch from the sting of it.

“I was going to come and help you find your wand.” Pansy said, her voice a little smaller. He could hear the hurt.

“Yeah, well don’t.” Draco replied, a whisper of a sigh in his irritated voice.

“Dray…” Pansy began, but Draco was walking away. Away from her aura of unerring irritation.

He really did need to get his wand back.

After a full week of pathetic excuses, some of his Professors were beginning to cause him concern. It wasn’t as though he needed his wand for every class. He could get through classes like Potions and a History of Magic without difficulty. In the classes he _did _need it for however…

McGonagall had cornered Draco in the hallway just that morning. Called him out on not reporting that his wand was missing to Snape—like the man didn’t have bigger things to worry about. The way her nostrils had flared when she had questioned him about its whereabouts, when he kept his answers brief and obscure. Yeah. She definitely had a problem with that and with him in general. Draco was already aware that just his _attendance_ at Hogwarts had him on thin ice, he was sure that this wasn’t doing him any favours.

No.

He had to get that wand back and soon.

A/N: Toss a coin to your fanfic writer. Please let me know what you think


	9. Conversing with the Mudblood

A/N: I am _soooo_ sorry for the complete and utter lack of updates! I’ve had so much going on here. I’m really hoping that you guys are all doing okay during these troubling times. I hope you’re all staying safe. I’ve had some health hiccups and personal stuff to deal with. My partner and I are still waiting to hear if our wedding is going ahead this year or not. If it is, my dress currently doesn’t fit and we’re still unable to get it altered. :sweatsmile:   
  
Anyway, I’ve been working as and when on updates over the past month or so but have found it really hard to get in the zone. Some of the stuff going on in my personal life has made me struggle with my mental health. But I’ve slogged on and hope this chapter isn’t too much of a disappointment. I know it’s really short so I’m sorry guys.

Stay safe. Remember if you’re protesting to social distance and wear a mask. I hope you all enjoy.

Black Lives Matter.

Tumblr: <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gryffindorgirl7777>  
Email: Gryffindorgirl2010@hotmail.co.uk

Music:   
Blood // Water- grandson  
I Don’t Give A… Missio, (feat. Zeale)

[ ](https://imgur.com/epNxiGo)

**Getting Even with Hermione Granger**

** Conversing with the Mudblood **

Draco had been wandering the castle for the past hour, trying to work out his angle, how he was going to approach Granger to get her to return his wand returned to him. He’d been replaying ‘the incident’ in his head as he’d walked the darkened corridors, feeling particularly vulnerable without his wand in his hand. He sneered and scowled at anyone who shot him one of those dirty, murderous glares that he’d become used to since the war.

_House unity and reparations Salazar’s saggy ball sack_.

Because the pointed glances and muttered words were beginning to sink beneath Draco’s skin. He could feel the damaged skin across his scarred and immovable Dark Mark was prickling, reminding him of the pain that had been inflicted upon him the night he’d been _gifted_ with it. He could almost feel his father’s proud, grey eyes upon him, watching him cry out in agony, his skin aflame. Could almost hear his mother’s sobs beneath the strangled cries that had ripped from his throat.

It reminded him too much of another strangled scream. Ones that had echoed and reverberated across the marbled room he’d been a witness in. Reminded of another scarred arm. One that dripped with bloody crimson, a red so stark upon the pale, soft, creamy skin.

_Her._

Draco grabbed his forearm, rubbing subconsciously as he replayed his latest encounter with Granger in his head. Saw that look of loathing, of ‘you’re not worth saving’, splashed out inside those fiery eyes and grit his teeth.

Well fuck her. Fuck Granger.

_Isn’t that what you wanted?_

That incessant voice inside Draco’s head was making itself heard again, just like it had been doing for the last week. He’d dreamt about Granger’s skin again, felt her petal-soft lips against his, felt the brutality of that kiss all over again. Felt his blood pulse every time he looked her way in class, felt her absence from their shared common room in a way that had jarred him. And every time he glanced at that wall, the one he’d pushed her up against, he wanted to do it again. Press her up against the wall and press himself against her, punishing her with his kiss once more.

Draco knew that insanity was creeping in on him, because he’d even heard Granger moan again inside his dreams. In that safe place where he could explore and indulge– in all those pitiful sins that his father would beat him black and blue for.

So, Draco been walking around, trying to press that fucked up part of him down deep once more. Was trying to forget that shame-coloured blush that had spread across Granger’s cheeks. Was trying to forget how just the memory of her beneath him, looking wild and radiant, was making his stomach flip. He’d been avoiding the bitch all week but drank her in every time she passed within his gaze.

But Draco needed his bloody wand back, and that meant talking to her.

Salazar help him, because what in the hell was he supposed to say?

After an hour of needless wandering, the only thing that Draco had decided on, was that he had absolutely no plan and not a clue on how to handle this. How to handle _her. _How to even be _near_ Granger after everything that had occurred between them.

Draco ran a hand distractedly through his platinum white hair, stopping for a moment to take a breath. He saw hatred in the eyes of a couple of students that passed him on the way to their dorms. Knew that curfew was approaching… And the vulnerability of being unarmed in the castle at night was gnawing at him.

How many students would love to get Draco back for the colossal mistakes that he had made? How many of them would happily avenge their dead loved ones if they realised that he was unarmed? Was this how Granger felt every time he snatched her wand from her?

Shaking his head, Draco allowed the questions to fall beneath the shades of loathing cloaking his mind before waltzing into the library like he owned the place. For all intents and purposes, he felt as though he was walking into Granger’s territory. Her safe place. He smirked at that, at knowing that he could taint it.

How fucked up was that?

Draco couldn’t understand his unerring need to take everything from her. To destroy it. Like Granger had done to him. Just knew that it was necessary.

Draco entered the library, the smell of old and dusty books assaulting his senses. He had to admit, the smell was comforting to him. It reminded him of easier days. Days and nights he’d spent complaining about homework, about searching old volumes for information. How he’d even slink inside it to study on his own, away from Crabbe and Goyle’s guffawing distractions. Because he had to. Had to study like a mad man just to keep up with smartass Granger. He remembered the frustration at never being able to best her… remembered the bruises.

As though experiencing the pain of his father’s punishment all over again– the slamming of his head on marble floor– Draco reached up and rubbed the back of his head, looking about him for any sign of the frizzy haired witch he intended on disturbing. He already knew from watching her over the years that she tended to head to the back of the library. Liked to find a little alcove or a table at a window to study at. Why he knew that, why he’d even taken note, he had no idea.

The lanterns were still lit in the library, but it was almost empty now, students returning books to their shelves with a wave of their wand before glaring at Draco as he passed. Let them stare, let them glare. What did he care? He knew what he was, who he was and nothing he could do would change that.

_And didn’t that expression on Granger’s face confirm it?_

Draco peered between the tall stacks that contained voluminous tomes of magical information, books he’d so often lost himself inside at an attempt to try and quash the rising tide of anxiety that had only grown larger, surrounded him and pulled him into its depths in sixth year. Anything to distract himself from the horrific task that had been given to him under pain of death.

Hands balling into fists at the flood of memories now rushing back to him, Draco’s upper lip curled up in disgust. Disgust and self-loathing mixing in a vat, curdling his stomach.

Then Draco saw her. In the far back corner of the library, between two stacks and standing by a table… Granger.

Draco didn’t care to know why his stomach had flipped at the sight of that bushy, frizzy mane of hers, clumsily pulled up into a bun at the back of her head. Didn’t stop to query why he froze in place for half a second, drinking her in.

The witch that was haunting him was standing in front of a bookcase, brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she read from a book in her hands. He was captivated by the moving of her lips, as she spoke words aloud from the tome in her hands. So much so that it took movement from the corner of his eye before Draco realised that Granger wasn’t alone. That mousey girl, Emilia or whatever her name was, was sat at a table amidst piles of books. She’d been looking at Granger attentively before realising that Draco now stood at the end of the stack, watching Granger.

Draco noted that Granger hadn’t seen him yet, hadn’t realised that he had entered her vicinity. It made him smirk at the knowledge that he’d get to witness that delicious jolt of fear when she spotted him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, his robes hanging open to reveal his white oxford and Slytherin tie Draco leant languidly against the bookcase, smiling at Emilia before pretending to listen to whatever the hell Granger was going on about. As it happened she appeared to be going over Mouse-girl’s Arithmancy homework.

“So, really it depends on if you’re applying the Agrippan method or the Chaldean one—” Granger said, looking up from the book in her hands to glance at Mouse-girl. But Mouse-girl was no longer looking at Granger, she was smiling coyly in Draco’s direction.

Draco’s eyes fixed upon Granger, smirking lazily in her direction, as though deigning her with his attention. He saw the flicker in her eyes, the way they widened almost imperceptibly as they fell on him. He saw her hand twitch to the pocket of her school trousers, was sure that at the very least, she had _her_ wand on her and maybe even his own, making her twice as dangerous in his opinion. He watched as she turned back to Mouse-girl, her expression unreadable.

“I think that’s enough for tonight Emilie.” Granger said quietly, reminding Draco of Mouse-girl’s actual name before closing the book in her hand with a sharp snap of finality.

“Um, sure.” Emilie replied, a bit of a squeak in her voice as she snuck another smiling glance in Draco’s direction.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Draco said, a bit of a sneer in his voice as he pushed himself up from where he was leaning on the wooden bookcase. “By all means, carry on Granger.” He smirked as he began to walk slowly towards the two of them.

Granger’s eyes darted to his, away again as she glanced at Emilie, then back to him, watching each step he took in her direction.

“We’re finished. We should get you back to your dorm Emilie.” Granger said, busying herself by gathering a pile of books from the table, pulling her wand from her pocket as her books began to float back into place on the shelves. Draco could tell that it bolstered her to have her wand in her hand as he walked lazily over to Emilie.

“I was just coming in to do a quick bit of research.” Draco explained, leaning back on the table beside Emilie, his back to Granger as he smiled down and gave Mouse-girl his full attention. “You wouldn’t be able to help me would you Emilie?”

Draco felt Granger bristle behind him, could feel the wariness in those wide brown eyes as she stared at him.

“Um, sure.” Emilie began, tucking her mousey-brown hair behind her ears as she batted her eyelashes at him. It was desperate. Something he’d seen far too many enamoured girls do over the years. For whatever reason, this time, it made him want to roll his eyes in disdain. “W-what was it you wanted to research?”

“Wandless healing magic.” Draco drawled in reply, pretending to be very interested with a piece of non-existent dirt beneath his nails. He glanced back as Granger fumbled with a book, almost dropping it in surprise. He fixed her a grey eyed stare.

“Hmmm, wandless healing magic?” Emilie asked, a finger on her chin as she thought aloud. “I’m not sure where you’d find books on that, but I could help you look?” She asked, looking hopeful. Looking suggestive.

“Thank you, that would be—”

But Granger cut him off.

“I know where they are.” Granger’s voice cut across them sharply. “You go to your dorms Emilie. I’ll… I’ll show him where they are.” Draco noticed the tone of reluctance in her voice, the cold, dulled blade of resentment. She didn’t look at him, avoided his gaze before turning back to levitate more books back into place on the shelves.

“Oh, well if… if you tell me where they are I could—” But Granger shook her head at Mouse-girl as she spoke.

“No. It’s almost your curfew. Eighth years have a later curfew. I don’t want you getting detention because you stayed here to help. I’ll handle it.” She informed Emilie, as though Draco were merely a chore she had to tick off her list before calling it a night.

Draco scoffed then, before placing a hand on the table, the other on the back of the chair that Mouse-girl was still sitting in. He angled himself and leant down to her, crowding into her space and watching that red-faced blush begin to spread. 

“You know that would actually work better; you see I need a word with Granger here.” Draco said quietly, still loud enough for Granger to hear. “I wouldn’t mind your help with research in the future though.” He murmured, his voice low and seductive, because he knew that it would piss Granger off. Made her protective. Put her on alert.

Emilie looked up at Draco, that glimmer of pathetic hope in her eyes, the glimmer he’d seen far too many times. Felt the disgust roiling beneath his skin and had to keep his upper lip from curling.

Granger suddenly dropped her satchel onto the table, making Emilie jump and turn her blushing face back to Granger’s. Draco turned his head slowly, his eyes fixed on Granger. Her usually warm brown eyes were cold, like she was made of stone as she glared at him. Draco merely let his lips curl up into a victorious smirk in return.

“Oh. Um… well… if you’re sure?” Emilie stammered, looking between the two of them as she slid out of her chair and gathered up her own bag.

“I’m quite sure.” Granger replied, not unkindly, but her eyes were glued to Draco’s, an edge in her voice. She was hurriedly putting her parchment and ink back inside her bag but wasn’t looking away from him and that stone-cold look, it had somehow captivated him. He found that after a week of her ignoring his entire existence, now she had finally looked his way, he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers.

“Um…” Emilie shuffled her feet anxiously, glancing between Granger and Draco. “Goodnight, I guess.” Her small voice and the knowing of how much it infuriated the Mudblood, made Draco return his attention to her.

“Have sweet dreams.” Draco said to Emilie, flashing that charming, melt-witch’s-hearts smile. He watched as her face reddened once more before she began to walk to the end of the aisle, giving him a small wave before she was out of sight.

The tension rose.

Draco felt it in the air around him, the silence of the library almost suffocating as he pushed himself up off the table he was leaning on. Once he had turned himself around he wasn’t at all surprised to find Granger’s arm outstretched, her wand pointed directly at him.

“Now, now Granger. I only want to talk.” Draco taunted her, taunted to tease the unease from underneath her skin, let it rise to the surface, hoping she would suffocate on the vapours. He placed his hands in his pockets, taking a slow and cocky step in her direction, watched as she took half a step back before stopping herself, her eyes watching his hands for any sign of a wand.

Grey eyes travelled across the plains of Granger’s face, her features lit up from the dimming lights around them, a sign that the library would soon be closing. He wasn’t close enough to make out her freckles yet, couldn’t see all the honeyed tones in the depths of her eyes. Couldn’t explain why he felt the need to be closer, to make out every detail on that perfect fucking face of hers. Had to swallow down bile again.

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” Granger’s clipped, short tone was quiet but resolute, determined.

But Draco had to play his part. Had to be pureblood Draco-fucking-Malfoy. Had to make her understand that he would do whatever it took to be back in control. To have his wand in his hand and–fuck it– even if it took a wizard’s oath to leave the bloody chit alone for the rest of the year, he needed to reinforce his position as Head Boy. Needed his wand back so he could try to claw back some sort of salvation for the Malfoy name.

“Give me my wand and I’ll be on my way then.” Draco flashed Granger a feral smile, eyes never moving from hers as he stepped towards her, ignoring her outstretched wand that had already maimed him. Because he had to be Malfoy. The bastard. Had to get beneath her skin and claw at her. Belittle and disparage her. Make her weak, make her vulnerable. Because he didn’t like the disparity between them. Didn’t like how confidently strong she was as she aimed her wand at him. How exposed he felt without one. 

“You’ve got to be fucking joking?” Granger scoffed at him, straightening her arm a little more as he stalked closer. He could see the alarm mingling with the indignation in her flaming eyes. “Don’t come any closer to me Malfoy.” She warned, jabbing her wand towards him, readying herself as though for a duel.

“I’m unarmed.” Malfoy said in amusement, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You have my wand remember?” But this didn’t placate her in the slightest.

“I mean it.” Granger threatened him again as he took another step towards her.

“What are you going to do? _Hex_ me again?” Draco’s hooded eyes darkened as he glared down at her. “I’m not touching you Granger.” He said as he took another step towards to her, closing in. And he saw that she’d noticed, watched her take a step back towards the large, wooden bookcase.

“Malfoy.” Granger warned him, saw her trying not to shrink as he towered over her.

“Do it then Granger. Hex an unarmed wizard in Hogwart’s library. Granger the war hero, turned criminal. I’m sure the tabloids will have a field day.”

“If you lay one finger on me–” Granger began again, Draco noting the strength and conviction in her voice.

“Trust me Granger, I have no intention of touching a filthy little _Mudblood_ like you,” Draco’s voice was laced with contempt. He could taste it in the air around them. Bitter.

“That didn’t stop you before, did it?” Granger spat back, those cold eyes fixing him with an angry glare.

Draco swallowed at the memory, his lips curling up into a dark smile.

“What’s the matter Granger? You hoping it’ll happen again?” Draco asked as he took another step towards her, watched her take another step back.

“Oh, it’s _never_ going to happen again Malfoy. I’ll kill you before it gets that far.” Granger warned him, the fire burning in those honey-toned irises.

Draco’s eyebrow rose at her threat, but he kept his sneer in place.

“Tsk tsk Granger. Isn’t that threat a little dark for you? Are you really that intent on taking that much of a dive? Don’t you have expectations to live up to? You’re the Golden Girl after all. Head girl. I don’t believe for a second that you’re going to risk all of those Ministerial job applications because I got your panties in a twist.”

Draco felt a thrum of victory flood his veins as a flushed pink blossomed on Granger’s cheeks. He watched her purse her lips, take a deep breath as her body tensed in what he guessed was furious frustration.   
  
“You’re not getting your wand back Malfoy.” Granger’s voice was quieter now as she raised her chin, holding herself taller. “I can’t in good conscience return it to you only to have you accost some other student.”

Draco’s lip twitched in annoyance as Granger spoke, in a manner that suggested she had practised what to say. She held his gaze for just a moment more, a beat or two of his racing heart. Then she turned away from him and made to leave.

_But things aren’t that simple Granger. And you can’t run away from me._

Draco sidestepped, blocking her path before encroaching on Granger once more. His body almost pressed against hers before she stumbled backward hurriedly in surprise, her wand endlessly aimed at him. He could see the realisation in her eyes, that he was cornering her.

“Don’t be a bitch Granger.” Draco spat, removing his hands from his pockets now. He noticed the flicker of fright in her flaming eyes before she found her resolve.

“Don’t be a prick _Malfoy._” Granger argued in retort, turning to hurry and put more space between them, but Draco wasn’t having it.

Draco slammed his hands against the bookcase behind Granger, either side of her head. He watched that delicious leap of fear thrum through her as she closed her eyes for half a second, startled. And still she kept her wand on him.

“Malfoy!” Granger’s voice sounded strained as she threatened him this time.

“I’m not touching you Granger.” Draco murmured; voice low as it ghosted across Granger’s face. He could see her freckles now, see those fiery sparks flying in her eyes. He swallowed, had to fight to ignore the scent of her shampoo, and that aroma of jasmine that assaulted his senses. Had to grip the wooden bookshelf his hands had landed on, just to stop himself from tangling his hands into her hair or caressing her smooth, soft skin.

Granger had frozen, stock-still, shoulders high and filled with tension. She was fixing Draco with a look of hatred so sharp that he felt it cutting, piercing his chest in the same location as the wound from her hex.

“Just give me back my wand Mudblood.” Draco added when Granger said nothing in response, reminding himself of why he had to be this close to her in the first place.

“Go to hell Malfoy.” Granger’s voice was quiet but filled with vehement detestation.

“Only if you’re coming with me.” Draco smiled darkly, leaning down a little closer to her, his nose a breath away from hers. He almost didn’t hear it, but Granger’s breath hitched as his eyes travelled down to land on her rosy, parted lips.

“I’m not going to let you drag me down Malfoy.” Granger warned him quietly, her eyes red hot and staring daggers, but Draco couldn’t help but notice the breathiness of her voice. Couldn’t ignore the way she was pressing herself back against the bookcase, as though she wanted to merge right through it.

“Oh, but I think you already have…” Draco breathed against Granger’s skin, face still moments from hers. “Or did you forget?” He glanced down at his chest pointedly, saw her wand aimed straight at his heart before looking back at her.

“How could I forget that?” Granger replied snidely, surprising Draco by leaning towards him a little closer. “How could I forget a cowardly _ferret_ pushing me up against the wall, pulling my hair and not letting me go.”

“Don’t act as though I stole your precious virtue Granger. You and I both heard the way you were moaning when I pressed my _hard cock_ up against you.” Draco drew the words out with emphasis.

There was a moment of silence, just that little bit too long before Granger’s response.

“So, I moaned.” Granger replied. “I also wanted you to stop. But that didn’t seem to matter to you either, so why does it matter that I moaned?”

Draco moved that little bit closer to her, Granger’s chin raising as she looked up at him.

“Because it means you enjoyed it.” Draco murmured lowly, a dark smile playing across his lips. “On some level Granger, you liked the feel of my body pressed up against you.” He watched Granger’s eyes flicker to his lips, her lips parted as he spoke. Had to ignore the surge of excitement that ignited inside him. Kept his voice quiet as he reminded her of everything she’d done that night, with her seemingly under the spell of it.

“Your hands tangled in my hair. You, pulling my robes from my body. Letting my hands caress your dirty skin. My hard c–”

“Stop it!”

Granger seemed surprised at the loud interruption that fell from her lips. Looked startled for a moment before she recovered herself.

“Just… just stop.” Granger’s voice almost sounded desperate and for half a split second Draco almost considered doing so.

“Stop what Granger? I just thought I’d refresh your memory, so that you remembered there was two of us there that night.”

“No. No, you forced my hand. You made me do that. It was the only thing I could do to get away from you, to get out from under you.” Granger said, convinced by her own words. “If you hadn’t taken my wand it never would have happened. Ever.” She said viciously.

“You’re right about that Granger. If you hadn’t pushed me–”

Granger laughed derisively at that. Even rolled those burning-too-bright eyes.

“You’re always blaming someone else for your fuck ups aren’t you Malfoy?” Granger said, the taste of her words raw and acrimonious in Draco’s mouth. “Never taking accountability for your actions. Never taking responsibility. Let me remind you that _you_ disarmed me. _You _pushed_ me _up against a wall_. You_ are the one that threatened to continue your mad aunt’s handy work. Remember?” She asked emphatically. “I did _nothing_ to warrant that kind of treatment from you.”

Granger’s eyes were passion-filled, and her skin was glowing in the dim light. Draco’s tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. Felt the bubble of nausea in the pit of his stomach at the mention of his aunt.

“Whatever wrong you felt I may have done you; we could have _talked_ Malfoy. You know, like two normal human beings?” Granger added incredulously.

“Only we’re _not_ two human beings, are we Granger. You’re a Mudblood, and it’s _because_ you’re a Mudblood that the very idea of Potter’s insinuation is so disgusting.” Draco spat venomously.

“If that’s the case, then why the hell did you _kiss_ me?” Granger argued back, voice and convictions strong as she raised her chin a little higher. “You’re nothing but a complete and utter contradiction.” She took her head, exhaling a breath of disbelieving amusement. “For someone who finds it easy to betray others, to lie so easily, you can’t even lie to yourself can you? You don’t even believe the crap you spew from your mouth. All of daddy’s little lessons–”

Draco’s eyes widened and darkened simultaneously. “I’m warning you Granger…” He interrupted her. “Don’t _ever_ talk to me about something you’ll never understand.”

“Oh, I understand just fine Malfoy.” Granger replied, voice dripping with malice. “Every word you say is just the poison Lucius fed you. All those horrible and abhorrent things that you believe? They’re just what he _beat_ into­–”

Draco had to grip the wood of the bookcase, so tightly that his knuckles were white. His lip curled into a snarl, fixing her with a look of malodorous fury.

“_Don’t–talk–about–what–you–don’t–understand_.” Draco growled out at her through gritted teeth, and for a second Granger seemed to cower slightly, shrinking back against the bookcase further. “You don’t know shit.”

“What I know…” Granger swallowed before finding her voice and bravery again, “is that you are too dangerous for me to return your wand.”

“You’re right.” Draco said. “I _am_ dangerous.” He fixed Granger with a glower of hatred, wanting to melt her away with the white hotness of his gaze. “So, you might not want to fuck with me.”

Granger let out a small derisive laugh, one Draco was sure was meant to sound blasé. Instead he heard the quaver of her voice.

“You think you can threaten me into returning it to you? Or are you going to take a leaf out of your father’s book and beat me into submission?”

“_Granger–_” Draco grit out, belying how close he was to letting the anger simmer to the surface and boil over.

“What?” Granger snapped furiously in reply. “I’ve already got bruises from our last little encounter Malfoy.” She lifted her left arm, quickly tugging down the sleeve of her blouse and robe to reveal a healing bruise on her wrist. “So, what’s to stop you from taking it one step further?”

Draco’s eyes fell on the mottled, darkened skin of Granger’s creamy, smooth wrist. Took in the fading blue and blotchy shades of green. Had to swallow. Had to close his eyes for a second to stop himself from drowning on the memories that were flooding his head. Too many images of healing injuries marring his own skin, all at his father’s hand. Had to swallow down the sickness that rose at the insinuation that they were both the same.

Draco’s eyes stared coldly out at Granger as he opened them. Couldn’t speak for a moment and she took advantage of that.

“What are you going to do next Malfoy? How long will it take before you snap this time?” Granger’s chest was rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, seemingly aware of how close to the edge she was pushing him but unable to stop. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to admit that I was terrified the other night? That you scared me? That you _still_ scare the hell out of me?” Granger’s voice was higher in pitch now, the only other sign of her distress as she stood tall. “If so, then you win. Because I’m terrified of sleeping just two walls away from you every night.”

Draco was staring at Granger, jaw clenched, hands gripping the wood on either side of her head. Watching as her stupid red lips made an angry pout as she straightened her back, staring right back. He was vaguely aware of that sensation again, the one he’d felt that night. That something dead and dying inside of him– it was rotting, and the putrid decay was spreading.

But Granger was still speaking, still letting words slip from between those ripened, venomous lips.

“Whatever your intentions that night Malfoy, whether you thought it would be fun to play with me or because you actually wanted to fuck me—”

“Don’t be disgusting Granger.” Draco spat out, snapped out of his stupor, but she raised her voice a little, talking over him.

“_Whatever_ the reason, I’m not going to play your little game.”

Both of them fell silent, staring furiously at each other, chests heaving. It took a full minute for Draco to quell the need to kill the stupid bint. To kill or kiss her. Stop those words, that poison that dripped from that sharp tongue of hers from spreading. Was almost surprised that Granger looked just as angry as he felt. Just as indignant.

Draco’s eyes slid down to watch Granger’s chest as it rose and fell, and the memory of her heaving breasts pressed against the confines of a white lace bra passed through his head. He wondered vaguely what colour it was today before he looked back up at those angry honeyed eyes of hers once more.

“Give me my wand Granger.” Draco demanded once more, voice sounding a little deadened. Granger rolled her eyes and shook her head in reply, leaning a little closer to him.

“Go fuck yourself.” Granger spat up at him, eyes on fire.

Draco raised an eyebrow. It was always strange to hear Granger curse, wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her do it when she was outside of his presence. Draco leaned that little bit closer to her in return, had to force his eyes back up to hers as they fell to her lips once more.

Draco wanted to strangle her. Wanted to _fuck_ all the Granger out of her. Instead his hand moved from it’s hold on the shelf behind her, his fingers lingering in the air just moments from her cheek where the soft curls that framed Granger’s face fell. Unsure what the hell he was doing. But he watched her. Took in how wide her chocolate coloured eyes were, watching his hand as her lips parted, brow furrowing slightly in bewilderment.

And then he gripped his hand into a fist, let it fall to his side before fixing Granger with a glare again.

“I need my wand for classes Granger.”

_And to protect yourself from all those people that want revenge for all the families you helped destroy. _

Draco shook himself mentally, ignoring that voice inside his head.

“Tough.” Granger exclaimed, sounding exhausted. “Until I believe that you’re not a risk to anyone else, you’re not having it.”

“If you hadn’t–” Draco began to argue again.

“Start by taking some Godric damned responsibility Malfoy.” Granger exclaimed disbelievingly, her wand still on him. “Do something with your life that doesn’t rely on your destruction.” She shook her head at him and the wound in his chest throbbed.

“You’re meant to be Head Boy, perhaps you could throw yourself into focusing on that as opposed to disarming and accosting witches.” Granger continued angrily.

“Don’t insinuate that I don’t do my job Granger.” Draco growled back, anger spiking once again. “I get my work done, I go to the meetings once a month–”

“I meet with the Prefects once a_ week_ Malfoy.” Granger frowned, still thrumming with fury. Draco could feel it vibrating in the air around them. “And what about the meetings for the Yule Ball? Do you even know that there’s a committee? Do you know who’s in charge of decorations? Who’s making posters or selling tickets?”

Granger paused for a second as Draco stared dumbly down at her. Of course, he didn’t know there was a committee, why the hell should he give a fuck about the stupid ball? It was all a waste of time and energy in his opinion.

“No.” Granger replied with a sigh finally when Draco had nothing to say. She shifted her wait haughtily and shook her head again. “No of course you didn’t. This is what I mean Malfoy. This is what I mean about responsibility. Merlin, I have no idea what Professor McGonagall was thinking making _you_ Head Boy.”

That spread of decay somewhere deep inside him again.

Draco tried to ignore the sharp pain of his chest as Granger gave him a look that showed exactly what she thought of him. How little she thought of him. And it was almost worse than the look of not-worth-saving she had fixed him with on the night of ‘the incident.’

Trying to swallow past the lump that blocked his throat again, Draco turned it all inward. He let the anger he’d been holding at bay in, let it boil over.

Anything to dull that pain.

“That little game of mine that you mentioned…?” Draco reminded Granger, a dark smirk on his lips as he leant closer to her once more. His words low and deadly. He watched her confidence falter as she took in his darkened countenance. She froze as he moved but he felt her wand pressing into his chest, right where the wound from her hex lay.

Who was Granger to talk about destruction anyway?

Draco disregarded the sharp pain caused by the point of Granger’s wand, leaning closer still, lips close to her ear, his breath ghosting over it.

“You’re going to be playing…” Draco murmured ominously, lips brushing ever so slightly against her outer ear, “…Whether you like it or not.”

With that Draco stepped back fixing her with his dark glare. Noticed how Granger looked flustered, her eyes a little wide, her lips a little parted. He watched her shock turn to confusion and wariness, the flicker of suspicion in her eyes. Then he turned and walked away, stubbornly ignoring that the scent of her jasmine aroma had faded from the air around him.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. I'm in need of a better pic for this fic. If any of you feel up to the challenge please hit me up on tumblr or email me :) xxx


	10. A/N

Hey guys, 

Sorry for the delay in updates. I've had a lot on my plate here. Just wanted to update you all though to say that I am finally getting the long-awaited and much needed surgery I've been hoping for... on Tuesday ':D

So the delays in updates will go on for a little longer whilst I recover but when I'm back I'll be sure to make it worth your wait. Thank you so much for the love and support you've all shown me.   
Stay safe, wear a mask and I'll update as soon as I can.   
B x


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